Losing Myself in You (9 page)

Bridgette's life should have flashed before her eyes. In fact, she could barely blink let alone reach up and defend herself. All she could hear was the snapping of the wolves' jaws. All she could see were the brown beasts moving closer and closer towards her. Her legs were shaky, but they managed to take a couple steps back, hoping to find the door opened. When her back hit the wood, however, she knew she was stuck. She was trapped, and, undoubtedly, she was going to die.

It was odd, her body's reaction to such a thing. She could feel her muscles tense, preparing herself for something, though she wasn't quite sure as to what that was. She wasn't crying, though she knew that she
needed it. Bridgette, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to release the stress causing her muscles to constrict together tightly, but she was in such a state of shock that the tears would not release themselves; they were stuck. They were nonexistent.

And then, like a
slow-motion sequence from a movie, someone pushed her out of the way. Not someone; rather, some
thing
. Before she could get a good look at whomever – whatever – saved her, she crashed onto the ground, hard. She bit back a grunt of pain and blinked again, hoping to rid the tears and the dirt that now speckled the rim of her eyes. She quickly reached up and wiped them away, but she wasn't concentrating; her eyes were solely focused on what was taking place right in front of her.

It was a wolf – she could tell now that she was out of the way and her mind was working
,
that it was indeed a wolf, and if she was being specific, she figured it was a werewolf.

It was probably the most amazing thing she had ever seen in her entire life. Though there were five or six other wolves, the werewolf that had saved her took each of them with stride. Each one came in to attack him but with one snap of his paws, long claws erected, it slashed across their face. It felt like an hour, maybe even two, but in reality, the fight took no longer than seven minutes. What Bridgette could not tell, however, was whether or not the wolves that tried to attack her were werewolves or not.

It didn't matter.

The beasts were whimpering now, nursing each other's wounds. With one glare from the werewolf, they all disappeared into the night.

It was then that Bridgette noticed how heavy the werewolf was breathing. He turned and looked her in the eyes; she was caught for a moment. She recognized those hazel eyes. Could it be -?

Her eyes took in the cuts on his body, and without fully realizing what she was doing; she reached out and gently rubbed his head. Then, before her very eyes, she watched him transform into none other than Marcus Sterling, the man who had brought her here. He was completely nude, but she didn't seem to notice. All that mattered was getting him inside, getting him warm, and cleaning up his wounds.

"We have to get you inside," she told him, shifting her position in order to stand up. She reached down and helped him up; it was more difficult than she originally anticipated due to the fact that he was taller than she was by nearly a foot, and had more muscles than she could count. "We have to get you cleaned up."

Marcus nodded and allowed Bridgette to help him up. Normal
ly, he was a very prideful wolf and whenever he came back from runs, he wouldn't let anybody treat him if he was wounded. However, for whatever reason, he felt comfortable enough with Bridgette to allow her to take control of this matter. She grabbed his arm delicately and wrapped it around her shoulder. Then, to the best of her abilities, she tried to support his weight and match his stride, and wrapped her arm around his bare waist in order to aide him.

Bridgette
struggled as she assisted Marcus back to the house, but she managed to hold her own.  She didn’t want him to see her falter, so she pushed her lips into a tight, white line and tensed her muscles to continue to take the brunt of his weight.  Marcus reached out and typed in a key code into a security system Bridgette hadn’t even noticed.  The door popped open automatically and she led him into the kitchen. When they reached the marble sink counter, she paused. "I'm going to get you some pants," she told him. For whatever reason, it did not bother her in the slightest that he was completely naked. All that mattered was that he was going to be okay. It was as though she had completely forgotten the fact that she was angry at him. And maybe she wasn't anymore. She just needed to take care of him. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

Marcus didn't say anything. Instead, he nodded, trying to catch his breath and ignore the pain.

It didn't take Bridgette long to find Marcus's room, and she grabbed the first pair of pajama pants she could find. While Marcus was putting them on, Bridgette was searching the kitchen for some kind of first aid kit, a bowl of warm water, and two towels. They were a pack of wolves; they had to have the materials for such wounds. A few moments later, Bridgette had everything she needed. He was modest by the time she returned, his palms flat on the edge of the counter, causing his shoulders to hunch up.

Bridgette turned on the kitchen light, getting a good look at his torso and the damage that was done. There was nothing on his chest except a few scratches, but when she walked around him, she saw a good portion of deep cuts. She frowned at this, and dipped one of the towels in the warm water. The first thing she concentrated on was wiping the blood that was already starting to dry away.

"Okay," she murmured in a soothing voice, glancing over her shoulder
.
"This may hurt."

Again, Marcus didn't say anything, but he tilted his head away to signal that he had heard. Bridgette bit her bottom lip and as gently as she could, placed the rag on his back. She heard him breathe in sharply and grip the counter tighter
.
For whatever reason, Bridgette placed her free hand on his bare shoulder in hopes it might calm him down and soothe him in some way.

"Are you okay?" he asked in his gravelly voice, his tone deeper than normal due to his strained concentration on breathing.

"I'm fine," Bridgette replied softly. Her body burst into warmth at his consideration, but she pushed the feeling away, hoping to concentrate on the task at hand. "All I have are a few cuts. Nothing serious."

She
continued to clean the wound before applying rubbing alcohol
.
That caused Marcus to roar, and Bridgette smacked him on the arm.

"Be quiet," she told him, furrowing her brows. "You don't want to wake everyone up, do you?"

Marcus said nothing, but he didn't roar again. Instead, he growled each time the ointment was applied, and she could tell he was trying to keep a hold of his anger. "Would you
hurry
?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I need to get everything clean so you don't get an infection," she told him in the same voice, he
r icy eyes freezing, though she was merely staring at his back. For a moment, she was suddenly transfixed by it, the muscles rippling with each twitch. Strong, sturdy… For whatever reason, Bridgette allowed her fingertips to gently follow the curve of his spine, needing to touch him in some way. She could feel him shudder in response, and she gulped, blinking her eyes to refocus her attention.

"Why do you care?" he asked. His tone was demanding and rough, but Bridgette's ears were sharp enough to detect the curiosity behind it.

"You saved my life," she murmured as she grabbed long, cloth bandages. "Of course I care." She didn't say anything more, but she started to wrap the material around Marcus's broad body.

S
he didn't realize she had just been admitted that until a few moments later, and the revelation caused her knees to grow weak.  She had to grip the counter with her free hand in order to steady herself. She cared about Marcus Sterling. She cared about the man she had intended to arrest just a week ago. She cared about the werewolf who turned her into one of them without her permission. Bridgette shook her head, trying to rid herself of such thoughts, and managed to become successful at the task, if only temporarily.

When she had finished, she walked around him and caught his eye.

"Thank you," she told him genuinely
,
"For what you did."

Marcus remained
silent, but nodded once again. He pushed off the counter, now standing in front of her at his full height, their bodies centimeters apart. Bridgette didn't move, though.  She wanted him to kiss her, to do more than that.  She wanted him to take her upstairs into his bedroom and lock her there for an undetermined amount of time, but she didn't think his back would allow him to do such a thing; not yet, anyways.

He
looked as though he wanted to ask her something, but she couldn’t imagine what that might be.  Worry was clearly written in his hazel eyes, however, and the emotion made her heart constrict.  She had a feeling Marcus was good at concealing what he really felt, but he wasn’t doing that right now.  Maybe he couldn’t help it.  Maybe the sight of her standing in front of those wolves had caused him to care more than he intended to. It was a miracle that he had managed to reach her in time.

Marcus said nothing
, but sighed through his nose. Without another word, he turned and headed upstairs to get some sleep. Bridgette felt herself deflate at his sudden departure, and decided to do the same thing.

It was just before seven and Bridgette was standing in front of a full-length mirror in her bedroom, her eyes going sharply over her attire. Currently, she was wearing a dress - one of the many she found heavily stocked in her wardrobe - and she wanted to make sure she looked presentable before she left her room to join the pack for breakfast. Her mind hadn’t changed about whether or not she wanted to be with the wolf – she didn't – but she felt that after what he did for her, she should be more respectful and at least dine with them. That was what he had wanted, right? She at least owed him that much.

To be honest, Bridgette felt absolutely ridiculous going down to breakfast in this sort of getup, but it was what they expected and she didn't want to embarrass Marcus any more than she already had. She turned so now her body was at a profile angle, and like all women, she checked out the size of her backside in this particular dress. It didn't look too big, but that was okay. It fit her body and her frame.

When her eyes drifted back up, she looked at her face. Bridgette didn't really like to wear makeup all that much; she was the type of girl that would have rather slept in than wake up early to put it on – and she did. Also, her face was pretty enough that it really didn't need any.  Because of her lack of practice, she always managed to smudge the eyeliner or the mascara wasn't even coated properly on the eyelashes. For the most part, the makeup she forced herself to put on today was light - it was only morning after all - but Bridgette made it a point to heighten her eye color
by
focusing on her eyeliner and mascara.

After a long moment, she seemed satisfied.

A knock startled her, and she turned, hoping that it wasn't Marcus. To her relief, it was only Abigail. The girl brightened upon seeing Bridgette awake, and even better, dressed.  It almost seemed as though she was preparing for another fight.

"Are you coming to breakfast?" Abigail asked with wonder, her eyes focused on the dress currently displayed on Bridgette's body.

Bridgette looked back at her reflection, still unsure of herself.  The dress was semi-formal, a golden color that didn't wash her features out. It had tank top like straps and a square-cut on top. Outlining the cut was a floral pattern, flowers that resembled roses and right underneath was a thick ribbon that tied in the back. The bodice was somewhat low, but nothing too revealing. From there, the dress draped loosely, giving her silhouette a willowy texture. The hemline ended at her knees, and she was wearing matching strappy heels.  Her hair was worn in a style the French had popularized; half up, half down.  She pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked back at Abigail.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding her head a couple of times.

"Why?" The question seemed blunt for Abigail, and to be honest, and even the wolf seemed surprised when she realized she had asked it.  However, despite her embarrassment, she managed to maintain eye contact with Bridgette, expecting an answer.

"Did you hear the commotion from last night?" Bridgette asked, slowly arching up a brow. Abigail nodded. "Right, well that was Marcus… saving my life."

Abigail's head slowly turned to the side. "What?" she asked.

"It's a long story," Bridgette said, not really wanting to discuss it. "But basically, Julianne came in after you left last night and told me she could help me escape. She led me to the kitchen door and pushed me out where a hungry pack of wolves were waiting. Before I could get back in, she closed it behind me. I literally thought I was going to die, but before anything happened, Marcus came and… as a wolf." She frowned
at her own interruption. "I'm not sure how he knew I was in any danger…"

Abigail smiled knowingly before pointing out the clearly visible mark decorating Bridgette's neck. "It's your connection," she explained. "You may not be fully aware of it, but Marcus is. He probably felt your fear and came to your rescue." Her smile deepened. "He's amazing, isn't he?"

Bridgette grinned. "It sounds like you're in love with him too," she observed out loud.

Abigail blushed. "Not really," she said, avoiding eye contact. "It's just a crush. It’s nothing big. Every girl in the pack has a crush on him. I mean, have you seen him?"

"Definitely eye candy," Bridgette agreed, suddenly, for the first time, feeling comfortable in her surroundings. Though she hadn't known Abigail for very long, Bridgette felt as though she could tell the her almost anything.

"Wait a minute," Abigail said, glancing back over at Bridgette. "What do you mean 'in love with him
too
?’"

"Julianne told me that the reason she helped me escape was because she wanted to be his queen," Bridgette told her.

Abigail snorted. "You don't have to worry about Marcus's affections shifting from you to Julianne," she informed her new acquaintance, even though Bridgette had continuously expressed a dismissive attitude towards Marcus's affections. "He's never once had such feelings for her. If he had, she would already be queen. Be careful, though. She gets really possessive of things she sees as hers, and Marcus is definitely one of those things. She's never really had to get crazy-protective over him yet because he hasn't been interested in anyone, and while the single females of the pack have crushes on him, she recognizes that they're not serious. This whole thing with you and Marcus though? That's definitely serious, whether you'll admit it or not. He
marked
you, and even though it wasn't exactly with your consent, it's very symbolic in our culture. That's equal to a guy giving a girl a wedding ring. So Julianne definitely sees you as a threat, and it's just good to be wary that she can be a crazy psycho bitch." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Does Marcus know it was Julianne who pushed you outside?"

Bridgette shook her head. "I completely forgot to tell him," she murmured. "I just…" She started blushing and made it a point to look at the floor rather than at Abigail. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay, you know?"

"I know," Abigail replied, but there was something in her smile that caused Bridgette to realize Abigail probably knew more than she was letting on. "Oh, and just so you know, those weren't werewolves trying to get you; that was a regular wolf pack. They live somewhere in the forests and we usually feed them our leftovers if they can't find anything themselves." She nodded her head to the door. "Are you ready to go to breakfast?"

Suddenly, Bridgette felt incredibly nervous. "Uh…" She stalled her answer and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, wondering, for a moment, whether or not she could back out of this still.

"Oh come on," Abigail said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed onto Bridgette's wrist and all but dragged her to the door. "They'll like you, so quit worrying."

---

Marcus wished he could be surprised that Bridgette's seat was empty when he came down for breakfast, but he wasn't.  His eyes lingered on her seat as he carefully lowered himself into his, making sure not to lean against the back of his chair.  Those wolves did a number on him; he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to Bridgette if he hadn’t know she was in danger.  Which made this whole breakfast so disappointing.  Her absence just informed him that his act of heroism really meant nothing to her.  She couldn’t even be bothered to eat with–

And it was then that he saw her. Everything froze as he watched her walk into the dining room, being led by Abigail. He didn't think he had ever seen her more beautiful. It caused his insides to warm, knowing that she had spent time on her appearance. It showed that she cared about his reputation. At least, he hoped she did.

"Good morning," he heard her murmur to the table in general, her cheeks slightly red due to how nervous she seemed to be.  She was probably embarrassed, though, having everyone's eyes on her, being the reason the rumble of the conversation came to a dead-halt.

Marcus managed to catch her eyes, and she smiled at him. It resembled that of a secret that only the two of them shared, and he cocked his own lips up to return it.

"Good morning," Julianne greeted in return, her voice overly cheerful as her crisp blue eyes locked on Bridgette's frame. Marcus watched as Bridgette glanced up, her eyes narrowed, and smiled – though, it might have been his imagination, but it seemed forced - in response.  He frowned.  He would have to ask Bridgette about that later. "I have a question about this whole thing between you and Marcus. No offense Marcus, but do you think it wise that your potential wife works at the Nocturnal Defense Society? Don't we have conflicting interests?"

The silence only got louder, and all eyes went from Julianne back over to Bridgette.  Not Marcus, but Bridgette, as though she would somehow know the answer to that question.

---

Bridgette nearly tripped over her feet as she pulled her seat out.  She felt her whole face pale.
Marriage? She wasn't stupid; she knew that the bite Marcus had inflicted on her meant that it was a possibility that he wanted her as his queen, but she wasn't aware that marriage actually went along with it. Silly, she knew, but marriage itself had never been on her to-do list.

"Actually," one of the Elders said, speaking for her.  Bridgette couldn’t remember his name, but Abigail mentioned that both Elders were older and wore black during meals to emphasize their position in the pack. "I think that that could only benefit our pack and their organization. It could help bridge a gap between werewolves and humans in some way."

Some of the wolves began to murmur together at his answer, and Bridgette felt herself relax thanks to the shift in attention.  Her eyes found Marcus.

"Marcus," Bridgette spoke, her voice sharp but soft. "Do you think I could talk to you alone for a moment? It won't take long."

Marriage had never been a part of the deal, and if it was, Bridgette wanted out. Now.