Allister, J. Rose - Displaced Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by J. Rose Allister

  “Not no more.” He licked dry lips. “I need water somethin’ fierce.”

  “I have a bottle of Evian in the car. Come on, let me help you up.”

  She rose and took hold of his hands, which felt like oven-heated leather despite her own elevated temperature. Christ, wasn’t there anyone in this fantasy who didn’t top out over one hundred and one degrees?

  “You’re already spiking a fever,” she said. “Let’s hurry.”

  He grunted while she tugged, and she finally pulled him to his feet—only to have him stumble into her arms. His unique, male scent mingled with the potent smell of sweat, blood, and dirt. She did her best to ignore the odor while she looped his good arm around her neck and helped him limp to the door.

  “You’re so damn soft,” he muttered.

  Her head whipped to his. “What?”

  “Your sweater.”

  “Oh. Thanks. It was a birthday gift. Angora.” Like any of that mattered to an injured man.

  She reached for the knob, but Nash staggered in front of her and put his back against the door. The tattered edges of his shirt hung down over the wound, concealing it. The amount of blood that had soaked through the fabric, however, made it clear he wasn’t in good shape.

  “I don’t want no hospital,” he said.

  “Please, Nash. The wound looked nasty when I saw it in the woods, and judging from your temperature, I’d say it’s already getting infected. Plus you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  He reached behind him, and she heard the click of the lock sliding into place. “No, I think Connor’s right. Somethin’s goin’ on with me. Somethin’ not right.”

  “Hence you needing a hospital.”

  “Just help me over to the bed.”

  She heaved a sigh. Men were such babies when hurt or sick. She’d found that out between her dad and Tommy, her first and only high school boyfriend. Or he had been, until he’d crashed his car into a ditch.

  She helped him hobble to the bed with her arm wrapped around his waist. His skin felt dry and hot, and every muscle was tensed beneath his flesh. He dropped down on the mattress as if he was exhausted, and no doubt he was. An infection would zap all his strength, she knew.

  Terra felt a little helpless as she stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at him. That pissed her off, and she got busy doing something about it. “Let me at least see if I can clean the wound up a little,” she said, heading for the bathroom. “I’ll grab a washcloth and some soap.”

  A glimpse at the toilet in the dull, gray bathroom registered with her bladder, so she locked the door and turned the faucet on high while she hurried to do her business. She came out with three warm, soaked washrags, soap, a glass of tap water, and a towel that might have seen another life as sandpaper.

  “You didn’t need to blast the sink just to pee,” he said in a thin rasp when she sat down beside him. “Ain’t like I never had a girlfriend or sisters.”

  Heat burned across both of her cheeks. “Thanks, but it wasn’t for your benefit.” She normally didn’t care about that sort of thing, but this was different.

  She leaned over and snapped on the other table lamp. Even with both lamps and the bathroom light on, the room was still dim. Perhaps it was for the best, anyway. She might have had her share of experience with blood and such, but that didn’t make her eager to play Florence Nightingale to the gaping, shredded flesh she’d seen beneath his torn shirt in the woods.

  “Can you take your shirt off?” she asked. Before he could reply, she frowned at her stupidity. “No, of course you can’t by yourself. Not with that shoulder like it is. Sorry.”

  Nash stared down at her while she leaned in to undo his shirt. Her hands shook as she tried to work the buttons, both from her reluctance to deal with what she found underneath and the piercing intensity of his pale green eyes as he watched her.

  She pushed the ruined garment back over his shoulders until it fell down his arms. Her gaze fell to his bare chest. The blood was there, but it was his maleness that registered. There were only scant traces of chest hair, but every inch she could see was tan and chiseled. Merciful heavens. As a ranch boss, no doubt his muscles received regular, rigorous exercise, but did cowboys really ride around with their shirts off? How else would he be so tan? What an image that conjured.

  Gritting her teeth, she shut off the mini fantasy. She hadn’t taken his shirt off so she could swoon like a schoolgirl. This new Terra was a little disturbing, not to mention inconvenient at the moment. Still, what she had to do next would definitely drown the sparks in her libido.

  Her eyes focused beneath his right shoulder and the massive smears of crusted blood that had dried from the hollow of his throat down to the waistband of his jeans. At least he didn’t seem to be bleeding freely anymore. That was a good sign.

  Terra blanked her face, determined to clean him up without showing any hint of fear or revulsion. She turned to the bedside table and soaped up a washcloth. “Okay,” she said while whooshing out a breath. “I’m just going to sponge off some of the blood. I promise to be as gentle as I can.”

  Her shaky hand reached out to dab the outermost edges of the blood first. Rusty brown came away on the white cloth as she worked, so she folded and refolded the rag to keep clean material in contact with his skin. When she didn’t find the source of the injury, she grew bolder and picked up her pace. The next cloth ran along his chest, down to his waist, and back up again, cleansing away dirt and blood and leaving behind tanned, rippling flesh. The final rag followed suit, and when she heard Nash’s breathing grow ragged, she knew she must be near the wound at last. His eyes continued to bore through her, and combined with her nerves, her stomach started quivering like a gelatin mold.

  The cloth dragged across his small, taut nipple, and he sucked in a gasp.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, folding up the cloth and tackling the last of the blood stains just beneath his collarbone. She pulled away and stared at the spot, her jaw falling open.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “Nash, look.”

  His eyes finally relented in their assault and dipped down to where she was gawking. There was no sign of his ragged wounds, not even a scar.

  “How could you heal so fast?” she asked.

  He couldn’t have, of course. She ran a hand over his hot skin without a thought, and then she leaned around him to check his back. She frowned when she realized there was nothing wrong with him.

  “That’s impossible,” she said.

  This more than anything seemed to support the theory that she was hallucinating the entire situation. Super healing was definitely some wishful thinking her subconscious could have dreamed up.

  She pulled away from Nash, but he grabbed her wrist in a potent grip. Her gaze snapped up to find two alarming things. One, the eyes that had been a pure, piercing green before were now shimmering with the same hypnotic gold flecks Connor’s had. Two, they were devouring her with a hunger that was palpable and altogether unsettling.

  “Let go, Nash,” she said, her eyes growing wary. “You’re hurting me.”

  “I’m hurtin’,” he said, relaxing his grip but not releasing her.

  She shook her head. “Why? There’s not a single mark on you.”

  “Inside,” he went on, his dry, warm hand pulling hers up against the center of his chest. “My heart’s hammerin’, my skin is on fire, and I hunger like a starved animal.”

  The evidence of that hunger she’d already seen in his expression, and with him pressing her palm against his sternum, she could feel the heat of his flesh and his frantically pounding heart. She swallowed and willed her own fluttering pulse to still.

  “Connor said he’s bringing you food,” she said in a quaking voice. “He went hunting while you were asleep.”

  “Huntin’.” Nash’s pale eyes fluttered closed, and he inhaled deep. “Yeah.” His voice had gone throaty with longing. “I need to hunt. Eat.” His eyes flew open, fixing her with a hard stare that showed his g
rass-colored irises had been swallowed by a blaze of gold. “Mate.”

  With a gasp, she yanked her hand away and jumped up. “I think I should go see what’s keeping Connor.”

  Nash was on his feet, too, in a motion that was far nimbler than should have been possible considering his weak limp just minutes ago. “You said you were gonna help me, Terra. And I need help, bad.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not about to take care of what you want help with.”

  “Why not? You want it. I can sense it, you know. I watched from the backseat of the car the way you kept throwin’ sexy glances at Connor. I could even smell you respond to him. And to me.”

  “Get away from me.”

  She headed for the door, but he stepped in front of her. “You want me.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “I heard your heart poundin’ when you let those silken fingers trail fire over my skin. I can see that your eyes are as dark as wildfire smoke.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “And I can still smell you, darlin’. You’re wet, ain’t you?”

  “Don’t be disgusting. You’re imagining things.” She shook her head. “I’m imagining all of this, more likely. Either way, I’m getting out of this nightmare right now.”

  He grabbed her by the upper arms, and his fingers dug in even through the thick fluff of her sweater. “You can’t leave me to suffer. I’m askin’ you nice to stay.”

  Panic dried out her throat, and she glanced pointedly at his hands. “If this is you asking nice, then my answer is hell no.”

  “Just one kiss to ease my sufferin’. If you don’t want me after that, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “I don’t have to kiss you to know I want to be left alone.”

  “I don’t think that’s what you want at all.” His hands slid up to her shoulders, rubbing them while he pushed her back farther from the door. “Come on. Don’t be afraid of me.”

  Her breath came in panicked gasps, but his hands on her provoked a shiver down her spine she couldn’t pretend was entirely unpleasant. “Connor said that to me, too, right before something bad happened.”

  “Makin’ love ain’t bad. In fact, I’ve been told I’m damn good at it.”

  She put her hands against his chest and shoved him back. “I never said anything about sleeping with you. We were only talking one kiss, remember?”

  Nash bridged the gap between them in a single step and took hold of the back of her hair. “Fair enough.”

  Their lips collided, and his were dry and hot with a fever only partly due to whatever the hell was wrong with him. There was a twinge of excitement low in her stomach, both from the feel of his hands and lips and the knowledge of how badly he wanted her. The flutter was flooded over by fear that was spiking adrenaline through her veins. He was obviously not thinking straight, and his rough insistence doused the flame of requited desire.

  She dragged her head back. “Nash, just listen to me. You’re not well. Your fever is making you crazed.”

  He pulled her head back to taste her again, trying to force his tongue between her lips. His lustful moan turned quickly to a growl of something animal, a sound much like the one she’d heard from Connor out near the woods.

  When she pushed him away and slapped his cheek, she gasped aloud at the eerie, animal glow in his eyes. He glared back with almost violent intensity as he advanced on her. When she tried to back away, she wound up stumbling right onto the bed. Nash was there in a heartbeat, standing over her with a heaving chest and conflict shadowing his expression.

  “Stop,” she said. “Think about what you’re doing.”

  He leaned his head back and shut his eyes with a long, deep exhalation, like he was attempting to calm his thoughts. Terra used his distraction to quietly scoot herself backward over the mattress, hoping to launch off the other side and lock herself in the bathroom. When her foot accidentally brushed against his inner thigh, however, his eyes flew open and he all but fell on her, pinning her arms alongside her head and covering her with the hot weight of his body.

  “Don’t go,” he said, his voice odd and foreign. “I need you. I want you to be mine.”

  “No!” She struggled, but his hands held her arms tighter. “Nash, get off me! Don’t do this. Leave me alone.”

  He pushed his hips forward, and the stiff ridge in his dirty blue jeans pressed between her thighs. The scream she let out was stifled quickly by his dry, demanding lips, and familiar fear skyrocketed into the blinding, seething panic of knowing he might actually take what he wanted from her—and that she wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

  That’s when the sound of a boot against the door exploded it inward with a thunderous crash. Nash whipped around, and relief flooded Terra’s chest at the sight of Connor’s bulk filling the doorway.

  “Connor,” she whooshed out. “Thank God.” Her grateful smile dissolved, however, when the murderous stare he had leveled on Nash turned on her.

  He strode through the door, tossing the dead animal in his hand onto the round wooden table beside the window. The twisted, mangled animal landed with a dull thud. God only knew what it had once been. An opossum, perhaps.

  Terra watched Nash’s attention bounce between the carcass and the giant, angry male, as if undecided which diversion to deal with first. She, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off Connor’s accusing glare.

  “I told you to stay the hell away from him,” he spat at her in a gruff tone.

  Several excuses flitted across her mind, all of them sounding ridiculous now that they were framed in retrospect. “I’m sorry,” she managed at last.

  “She couldn’t stay away. She wants me.” Nash turned back to her, and his gold eyes were tinged with red.

  “Get off of that bed.” Connor’s voice carried an undeniable threat, and she wasn’t entirely sure which of them he was speaking to.

  “Don’t worry,” Nash spat back. “I don’t mind sharin’. You can have her when I’m finished.”

  “You ain’t gonna have her.” Connor stepped forward, teeth clenched. “What you’re about to have is two fists full of trouble.”

  Nash laughed and sat back on his haunches. “You couldn’t best me when we used to screw around wrestlin’ on the ranch. Don’t make me hurt you now.”

  Connor shot him a tight smile. “A necessary ruse to keep up appearances. If you challenge me here, I think you’ll find I was holdin’ back quite a bit.”

  The other man relinquished his seat on the bed. “I’m feelin’ inclined to test that claim.”

  Connor gave a curt nod and stepped closer. “Terra,” he said calmly. “Leave now.”

  “No way.” Nash sidestepped the other cowboy and shoved the door closed, which took a bit of doing since Connor’s forcible entry had splintered part of the frame. “Winner gets the woman.”

  Connor’s response died when his face twisted in what appeared to be a grimace of pain. His hand flew to his stomach, and his voice took on a pensive, haunting quality. “Do you feel that, Nash? It’s the call of moonrise.” His eyes met Terra’s wide stare. “The game is about to get ugly.”

  A hard knot flipped over in her stomach while she watched the sparkle in Connor’s eyes begin to undulate again. Nash stiffened as well, and then he sniffed the air sharply. His gaze fell to the fresh kill on the table, and a gruff, low growl came out of him that made Terra imagine him ripping the carcass apart with his bare hands. Her nails dug into the mattress as she inched slowly toward the edge. She paused when Nash started for the table, praying he wouldn’t notice one of her legs was now dangling over the far side. Sure enough, his eyes darted toward her, but just as he changed course, he stopped short and cried out.

  “Shit!” he shouted, clutching his head in both hands. His eyes squinted shut in what appeared to be agony, and his cries now made his earlier moans sound tame by comparison. “Fuck, what’s happening to me?”

  “First time’s the hardest,” Connor said.

  Nash doubled over and then
dropped to his knees. Terra used the moment’s distraction to jump off the bed, but she froze near the bathroom doorway at the sound of his bloodcurdling scream. The hairs on her arms stood on end while the sound morphed into something inhuman, a wail becoming a howl that she recognized.

  She whipped around. “Oh, no,” she breathed.

  Nash’s body began to quiver, not like the subtle vibration of a man shivering with cold, but a rolling, bone-rending quake like some kind of Hollywood special effect. His face elongated, and Terra’s hand flew over her mouth as she watched his head transform. The sickening sounds of his screams barely covered those of bones and ligaments popping and reforming. He seemed to collapse, an illusion caused by his body compressing downward. Then, the man was simply gone.

  The black wolf in his place stood at stony attention, snarling at Connor with tail and neck fur bristling. Shiny saliva dripped off newly sprouted fangs. Terra had gone stiff, too, her hand still clamped over her mouth and breath stilled in her lungs.

  “Terra!” Connor all but growled at her.

  She snapped out of her daze to find Connor’s breathing was pained and his eyes were blazing gold again—this time with a note of pleading. He was losing control, too. She could see it.

  His human form seemed to fall away as he dropped into the gray wolf. Then two fierce animals were circling one another in the dingy motel room, their lips curled and fangs bared in a snarling challenge she knew wouldn’t end quietly. With their bodies between her and the front door, there was just one thing to do. She raced inside the bathroom and slammed the door just as their growling standoff escalated into vicious barks and sounds of claws scraping against the thin carpet.

  She turned the lock and stood there rigid while terrifying howls and feral rage painted ugly splotches of violent imagery over her view of the dingy, gray door. She tried to picture what was happening from the barks followed by snarls, growls by painful yelps. Something—one of the lamps, she guessed—crashed. A louder crash, perhaps the table, came moments later.

  “Jesus, they’re killing each other,” she said, her voice echoing her distress around the empty bathroom. Her nails dug into her palms with a painful burn. Snarling sounds came closer, and then, boom! The bathroom door jolted as something solid crashed hard against it, sending her jumping back with a shriek. She spun around, frantically seeking another way out of the cramped room. The only window was over the bathtub, too small and high up to squeeze her body through.