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He considered taking her to the mansion; the clinic would surely be the best place for her to be treated, but he couldn’t risk it. Hell, she was bleeding out; his chest and arms were covered in her blood, her skin growing ever colder. Shit. No, he didn’t have time.
So he went for his next best option, bolting through the streets of Folkestone until he came to her building. He didn’t bother trying to find her keys as he reached it, just slammed a shoulder into the door of the building and roared up the stairs to her flat. Shoving her door open with all his might, he thundered into her small living room, sweat dripping from his brow, his heart thumping. He carefully carried her to her overstuffed sofa and gingerly lay her on her side. Even more blood welled out of the wound, rapidly soaking the couch with red. Shit.
Panic practically overwhelmed him as he darted over to the broken door and slammed the now-rickety wood shut. He grabbed her house phone, hating the fact that her blood had covered his hands and that, as a result, everything he touched was left with smeared fingerprints.
Dialling Dax, the line connected almost instantly.
‘White Wolves Inc.,’ the guy drawled.
‘Dax, it’s Leyth. Get Doc down to Tamriel’s apartment ASAP. It’s registered on the pack’s database. She’s badly injured.’
‘What happened?’
‘No time, get him here. Now, Dax,’ Leyth barked.
‘He’s on his way. ETA, ten minutes.’
Leyth slammed the receiver down and darted back to Tamriel. Her skin was so pale she looked like a ghost, and blood was still flowing from her gut, albeit more slowly. He checked her pulse again, praying it was still steady. It was weak. Too weak. He launched himself into her bedroom, pulling apart her wardrobe and drawers until he found the pile of blankets he was looking for, and rushed back into the living room to press one of the blankets against her gaping wound and cover her cold body with the other.
He was such a damn idiot. This was his fault. This was all his fault.
Tamriel awoke with a start. What the hell had happened to her? She was in so much pain. It felt as though she’d been ripped apart. Inhaling as deeply as she could, and with immense difficulty, she picked through the scents surrounding her. She was definitely in her apartment; it smelt so familiar, yet amongst the usual scents of her living room she found the scent of man. Dark and musky. The scent she recognised right through to her core. It was the very same scent of that wolf.
He must be here.
The mad man who had chased her through the woods was in her apartment.
And she was injured. Shit.
I’m a werewolf. And so are you. The words thundered through her mind once again and her entire body began to tremble with the need to run, as far and as fast as she could. There was a madman in her house who had changed from a genuine wolf into a man before her very eyes. He was in her house and she couldn’t move. Panic thrashed its way through her, making her shake uncontrollably; her breath was coming out short and sharp. The images of that wolf, then that man were filling her mind, but she shoved them away.
Stop it, Tamriel! she told herself. It can’t have been real. It just can’t be. And if you’re going to get out of this situation alive, you need to get a goddamn grip and work out what’s going on and how you’re going to escape.
With fear wrapping its way around her, and her commonsense battling to keep control, she just kept telling herself over and over, It can’t be real. But somewhere, deep down in her heart, those words rang true; she’d always been different after all. But first she needed to work out what the hell was happening to her, and how on earth she was going to get out of this godforsaken situation.
Slowly opening an eyelid, she scanned the room. It was indeed her own living room; she was lying on her own sofa, covered in blankets. At the foot of the sofa, with his head down and his eyes shut was that man, the one with the black hair. He was stunning.
Tam could barely hold in a gasp as she took him in. He had one of her towels wrapped around his hips, and shoulders that took up half the sofa he was leaning against. His chest and stomach were broad and heavily muscled, a light dusting of black hair ran down his chest and disappeared into the towel.
Even as he slept, his features twisted into an expression that looked particularly wolfish.
She must be going mad. This sort of thing just didn’t happen in real life. Hell, she’d seen stories at the paper on murders, rapes, the works. Her colleagues had worked on so many cases that resonated fear and destruction, but watching a wolf turn into a man was absolutely mad, it was something out of stories and bad television programmes, not reality. Taking a deep breath, and trying to process everything that had happened to her, Tam carefully scanned the rest of the room. It was completely empty. Nothing and no one else there. What the hell had happened?
She glanced back at the undeniably gorgeous man and panic swept through her anew. She needed to get the hell out of here. She needed to put as much distance between her and this insanity as she physically could. Her heart thundered violently in her throat, her hands trembling as she attempted to formulate a plan of escape.
Trying to be as quiet as she physically could, Tamriel moved her arms, attempting to shift the blankets piled on top of her. The movement had her flinching as pain ricocheted through her; what the hell? Carefully she shuffled the blankets down to expose her chest. Thankfully she had been covered with a sheet that was wrapped around her torso, but her top half was very bare underneath. There was one hell of a bandage wrapped around her stomach; it was dark red in places. Every movement, every breath, brought tears to her eyes.
As she eyed the wound, memories flooded back to her. She was running away from that mad man, terrified of what she’d witnessed, of what he’d said. Terrified of him. More than that, she was terrified of the fact that the words he’d spoken echoed the thoughts she’d had all her life. Words that she had questioned since she was old enough to realise that she was different, that she had stronger senses than anyone she knew. She was absolutely terrified of the fact that as he’d changed from wolf to man, it seemed to her like the most natural motion in the world. It had called to her instincts and made her hunger to do the same, to become wolf. And that, beyond all else, was absolutely crazy. Hell, werewolves were a myth, a thing of fiction not reality. And what she had seen, the transformation, should have made her question her sanity, look for hidden cameras or magic tricks. The reporter in her wanted to do just that; wanted to find the facts hidden beneath one of the most unexplainable things she’d ever witnessed but, in her heart, she knew there was something more to this. And she knew that she was something more than human.
Pulling herself back to reality, Tam tried to make a plan of action, but the pain tearing its way through her body made even thinking difficult. She needed clothes, and she needed to get out of here.
She took a deep breath in and forced her feet off the sofa. As her legs slid to the side, however, a new, searing pain shot up from her ankle. It must be broken.
Tam sat there for the longest of moments, tears streaming down her face, breathing deeply through the pain. When it finally subsided a bit, she blinked away the tears and tried desperately to focus.
As the room came into view again through her blurred vision, she gasped. That man, that wolfman, had woken up and was standing directly over her. He was still wearing the towel; the small bit of material barely covered him. Even so, he managed to look huge; impressively tall and excessively manly. Even in a pink bath towel. Fear wrapped itself around her so rapidly that she could have sworn her heart just stopped beating, and her body was shaking so violently it was a wonder she didn’t vibrate right off the sofa.
There was a madman in a pink towel stood in her living room, looming over her, and she was stuck, unable to move off her goddamn sofa.
‘You’re awake.’
Tam didn’t speak, couldn’t. She was in so much pain that she could barely breathe. And the sight of this mostly naked man was doing little to help that.
‘Are you OK?’ Then he winced. ‘OK, that was a stupid question. Here, let me help you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Tam hissed out through clenched teeth. The man didn’t listen to her. In one swift movement, he scooped her into his arms and, before she even had time to scream, he’d gently swung her around and carefully propped her up into a sitting position on her sofa, covering her with blankets.
‘Who are you?’ Tam spat, trying desperately to breathe properly.
‘I’m Leyth,’ he said, as if that would explain everything. She waited, but quickly worked out he wasn’t going to say any more, so she tried a different tactic.
‘What the hell happened?’ she said, motioning to her stomach.
‘You fell in the woods. Your ankle got caught in a trap, then you fell on a dead tree branch.’
‘I remember running. From you.’ He winced as she said it, his eyes darting away. He actually looked regretful, guilty almost. ‘I remember getting my foot caught. How did I get home?’
‘I carried you.’ Oh, obviously. A naked man carrying a bleeding woman through the streets of Folkestone, like that went unnoticed.
‘Well, I’m fine. You can leave now.’
‘You’re not fine, Tamriel. And I’m not leaving you.’ God this man was irritating.
‘Leyth, if that really is your name. I’m honestly fine. It’s just a scratch. You can leave me now.’
‘You’re not.’ To prove a point, he walked over and carefully prodded her stomach. She winced as his fingers met her raw stomach and those damn tears started filling her vision once more. ‘And I can’t leave you.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you know too much.’ Crap. It dawned on her why he was so reluctant to leave. She’d seen him change, shift from wolf to man, though part of her was still insisting that it was a dream, a magic trick. She now knew a very big secret, an incredibly well-hidden secret. One that would make front-page news without a doubt. If she could prove it.
This man clearly wasn’t going to let her leave here alive if he thought she was going to tell anyone his secret though.
‘No I don’t, I don’t know anything.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I can’t remember anything that happened in the woods, I’m not even sure how I got there.’
‘Nice try.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘But you remember running from me, and that means you probably remember why you were running.’ Crap.
‘I won’t tell anyone.’
‘I know, I won’t let you.’ Double crap.
‘So what, you’re just going to keep me hostage in my own house?’
‘Until I can work out what to do with you, yes.’
Panic rippled up her spine. Was he going to kill her? Why the hell had she chased that wolf out into the woods? Her tendency to jump into situations before thinking about them had always gotten her into trouble. Why was she such a stubborn idiot? Now what was she going to do? She was stuck in her own apartment, with a brute who easily swamped her in size, unable to run because she was badly injured.
‘Are you going to kill me?’ Tamriel looked the guy straight in the eye. No point in beating around the proverbial bush.
‘What?’ The man looked genuinely shocked at her words. ‘Hell, no. Why would I do that?’
‘Because I know your secret.’
‘Shit. Tamriel, no, I’m not going to kill you.’
‘Why not?’ OK, so maybe she shouldn’t be questioning his motives. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she should just leave it at that, right?
‘Because.’
‘Because what?’ OK, Tam, stop irritating the big man who could rip you apart in a heartbeat. The problem was her stubbornness. Now she was physically unable to run, to save herself, she might as well ask and get answers.
‘Tamriel,’ he cautioned her.
‘Leyth. If you’re going to kidnap me and keep my against my will in my own home, then you’re damn well going to give me some answers.’
He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I know your father.’
Tam sucked in a sharp breath. And another.
‘Like hell you do,’ she hissed eventually. Looking directly into those icy-grey eyes, she willed him to take it back, to cut the crap and tell her the truth but, even as she forced herself through the age-old pain, through the horror she’d felt all the years after losing her father, she sensed no lie in his words. His eyes stayed locked onto hers, open and honest, gleaming with what? Regret?
‘Tamriel. I know John Chambers, I know your dad.’
‘My dad is dead,’ she spat, wincing as the motion sent pain reverberating through her body.
‘He’s not, Tamriel. Your dad left you when you were young because he had to go on a mission for the Council.’
‘The what? No. You’re lying. My dad died.’
‘Look, I hate that you’re finding out this way. I hate that you have to find out. But your dad left years ago to go under cover for the Council. He went to infiltrate the Circle and no one has seen or heard from him since.’
‘Prove it.’
‘I…’ He winced. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘I, uh—’ He motioned to his almost-naked state. ‘I lost my clothes.’
She snorted. Though it hurt like hell, her body screaming in agony as her stomach moved, it actually felt good to laugh. Not that she would admit it at a time like this. But hell, this man, this crazy kidnapping man, actually made her feel safe. Lord only knew why, but she just couldn’t help but like him a little. She hated that she did, hated everything about her treacherous mind; she wanted to scream in terror, she wanted to run as far and as fast as she could. She wanted to hate him with everything she had.
But if she was truly honest with herself?
She didn’t.
She found herself smiling at him. Although he was scary as hell, he held himself like a man with honour and she could see him doing everything he physically could to seem as non-threatening as possible.
And on top of that, the reporter in her wanted to be here, wanted to find the story here, to find the answers to the thousands of questions she had crowding her mind. Wanted to work out exactly what was going on. And if she was really honest with herself? Would she really run if she wasn’t badly injured? Would she really try to escape? She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the answer.
Tam didn’t believe that he was lying about her father, but she didn’t necessarily think he actually knew him. Her father was dead. And that was all there was to it. Right now? She didn’t really want to think about it either.
‘So the branch went straight through my stomach?’
‘Yeah, it was really bad.’ He eyed her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like crap. But surely if I was impaled by wood, I should feel worse.’ She fingered the sheet covering her. She did feel like hell. Every part of her hurt. It was a pain so intense that she could barely wiggle her toes, yet she was sure that if she really had been on the worse side of a large stick she should be unconscious, battling for her life. Not sat on her own sofa, chit-chatting with a kidnapper.
‘Tamriel.’ Leyth heaved a great breath, like he was gearing up for the mother of all conversations. ‘You are wolf.’
‘Sure,’ she snorted, though it came out strangled. Fear and confusion prickled up her spine once more. He had to be lying. He had to be playing a trick on her.
‘You are. And the sooner you get to grips with that, the better.’
‘You’re lying.’ She hated how hoarse her voice sounded. Hell, he had to be lying. Werewolves didn’t exist. They didn’t. But, hell, even as she forced herself to believe that, the voice in the back of her mind told her he spoke the truth. It made sense after all. Her father had always been so strict about the strangest of things; don’t go out in the woods alone, don’t watch the sunrise, don’t look directly at the full moon. Don’t play with wolves.
Come to think of it, her family home had been covered in pictures of wolves; one wolf in particular. A huge brown wolf with dark-brown eyes, and there had been photos of her mother sitting with her arm around it, pictures of the wolf running in the woodland. She’d always been drawn to wolves.
‘So you’re a werewolf?’
‘Well, yes, but we don’t call ourselves werewolves. We’re just wolves. The nickname the media gave us is frankly offensive.’
‘OK, so you’re a wolf?’
‘Yes.’
‘Prove it.’
Leyth could hear the slight tremor in her voice, could see the ever so slight tremble in her hand as she gripped the sheet covering her. She really didn’t want to believe it. She was fighting every instinct she had and he could see the turmoil behind those beautiful eyes.
‘Right.’ She took a deep, shuddery breath. ‘If this is real, and I’m not saying I believe you, I just want to know how you do it.’
‘OK, I can—’
‘Don’t speak.’ She cut him off. ‘You don’t get to speak right now. You don’t get to do anything. Just let me figure this out. There has to be an explanation.’
He could see her trying not to panic. Her eyes were wide and filled with a combination of fear and cold determination, her hands trembling and her heart racing. She was trying to control the situation, trying to find the facts hidden beneath the magic.
‘Right. Move, over there. Where I can see you.’ He followed her orders, gingerly walking into the middle of her living room and stopping in the spot she had indicated.
