Untamed Wolf (9 page)

For the first time since he met her, she snapped at him and his relief grew. Not only had she survived, and shifted, she stood up to him some. Excellent signs all. After lifting the heavy cat onto the makeshift litter, he tested the construction with a few tugs to make sure it would travel. It would be hard work, but it would hold and he’d be free to deal with any other predators lured out by the blood Chrystal continued losing.

“All right, watch my back, pretty lady. If you see anything coming at us, snarl like you mean it. Give them something to think about.”

Her ears flicked toward him, then she peeled her lips away from her teeth and growled. It was so fucking cute.

“Yeah, just like that.” He winked then reached for his wolf, profoundly grateful to shed his shivering skin. A couple of minutes later, he shook off the blank spots dancing in his vision and reached for his link to his pack, leaning on his Alpha. The strength came immediately and added to his depleted reserves.

Chrystal licked at his muzzle and he returned the affection, bumping her gently and rubbing his scent along her side. He was a much larger predator, and he wanted anything hunting for her scent to pick out his as well. Another nip to her ear and he grabbed hold of the makeshift handle on the litter. It proved as difficult as he imagined, but it moved.

She paced him a couple of steps, then circled to the other side and grasped a branch as he did, adding her strength to his. As weak as she was, it only aided a little, but it built her confidence and gave her an adrenaline surge, so he approved. Side by side, they trudged through the snow and dragged their prize with them.

T
he next several
hours passed in a haze of misery and determination. Chrystal tried to match her steps to Dylan’s all the way to the cabin. She couldn’t fail to notice he slowed for her stumbling. When she fell, he snapped at her to get back on her feet. After the first hour, he snapped at her again, forcing her to release the grip on the litter he’d created. No longer fumbling to keep her hold and balance at the same time, they covered more ground. After a while, she simply followed where he went. Bless him for not losing where they were, because she didn’t expect to ever see the cabin again. When it appeared out of the snow like a postcard, her heart stuttered.

Once he’d hauled the cat carcass onto the porch, he yanked the rope on the door and opened it for her. She faltered, limping inside the room. It seemed like an oven compared to the freezer they abandoned. Mama came to her feet and even the pup made little growling noises. Too tired to care, Chrystal stumbled on past her. A gray blur was her only warning of Mama’s impending attack, one which skidded to a halt when Dylan growled.

Mama snapped, but she withdrew and ducked her head. Chrystal didn’t slow till she reached what was left of the bedroll by the dying fire. Every muscle in her body seemed to burn, and she tumbled onto her side and panted. A hand on her shoulder woke her, and she blinked at Dylan kneeling next to her.

“Wake up, sweetheart. I need you to shift again.”

Oh, hell no.
She laid her head down.

“Uh uh,” he admonished, shaking her again. “Shift.”

With the one paw she managed to lift, she batted at him and tried to push his hand off of her. Laughter greeted her action, then he slid an arm beneath her and lifted her to her feet. She growled, but it took too much energy. Energy she didn’t have to spare. Like her, Dylan had injuries, yet somehow he’d shifted and dressed. How long had she slept?

“You’re cute, pretty girl, but that’s enough. I need to treat those wounds. So shift.” No more please, no request in his tone, just unvarnished demand. He was not in charge of her, dammit.

Snarling, she snapped at him much as Mama had done to her earlier. Her teeth never came anywhere near him. Cupping his hand over her muzzle, he locked her jaw shut and gave her a firm look.

“Do it, Chrystal. If you want to bite me later, I’d be happy to enjoy you clawing me, but for now, do as you’re told.”

The command sparked along her nervous system and her wolf retreated, releasing her before Chrystal could complete the thought. She had no energy for it. Maybe if Luciana were closer…her Alpha’s strength seemed to reach her, a candle in the darkness. It barely lit her, but it was there, and she grasped it then the world turned inside out.

Agony throbbed with her pulse, and she forgot how to think. Hell, breathing almost seemed impossible. She would have landed on her face, save for the arm wrapping around her and lifting her. Opening her mouth, she wanted to tell him off, say something, anything, yet all she could manage was a keening noise.

“I know, sweetheart. You did it.” Even the fabric of his shirt hurt her. He swore, and one moment he held her, then he set her down. A second later, he scooped her up again. Skin pressed to hers and alleviated the raw sensation. “I got you,” he told her. The murmuring helped, even when she couldn’t seem to form the fragments in her mind into one clear sentence.

A mug pressed to her lips. Hot, sweet chocolate poured into her parched mouth and she slurped at it then choked. It came out with a cough and splattered against him. Tears slid down her face. She’d just thrown up on the wolf helping her.

Well, it was his fault because he wouldn’t leave her alone. A hand smoothed over her hair, then he offered her the cup again. She tried to drink and swallowed after each sip. Her eyes felt like they weighed two tons, then darkness swallowed her.

When the light returned, she lay on her side, buffered by warmth on two sides. Everything ached, but she wasn’t cold. A sensation tugging her fingers had her glancing down to find thicker masculine fingers threaded with her own.

“Shh,” Dylan murmured against her ear. “What do you need? I’ll get it.”

Foggy on why he held her hand and where she was, she pushed her free hand flat and tried to sit… White hot daggers dug into her shoulders then lit up her back. Exhaling a harsh breath, she tried in vain to reclaim her less painful earlier position. “Ow…”

“Easy, baby, you’ve got some stitches. You tore open your shoulder with that last shift and kept passing out on me.” He stroked the hair off her face. Every gentle glide of his fingers brought relief and soothed her agitation. “I’m not that great a doctor, but the stitches will hold till you’re ready to shift again. I don’t think the cat tore any muscle.”

Wonder shivered over her. “Can I lay on my back?”

“Let’s find out.” He helped her roll over. Every movement cost her, and she panted once she rested against the pillows. Dylan lay braced on one arm, studying her. The firelight played over his face and the room was dark. “We good?”

“No, but I’ll survive.” Somehow she found the will to smile, and his grin rewarded her for the effort. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours. Hungry? Thirsty?” He resumed stroking her hair from her face.

“It’s not fair.” Closing her eyes, she savored the contact and concentrated on steadying her breathing.

“What’s not?”

“You look great, and I feel like someone dragged me face down through the mud. I didn’t even the fight the cat.” No, but she remembered the horror of the sensation as it landed on her back, the sharp pierce of pain. Fear and panic choked her, then Dylan slammed into her and the cat, knocking the animal away from her. She’d lain there in the snow, only half aware of the battle raging around her. Disconnected, like her mind couldn’t quite process what happened to her body.

“Ah, darling, don’t hate the beauty.” The teasing lilt made her laugh, and then she groaned.

“Ow.”

“Note to Dylan, don’t make the pretty lady laugh.”

“I am so not pretty at the moment.” Though she appreciated the sentiment. What she wanted was another day of sleep, maybe some food and definitely something for the pain. What she needed, however—“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Got it.” He pushed the blanket away, sat, then turned to slip his arms beneath her. He rose as though she weighed nothing and carried her to the bathroom. Once inside, he got her seated on the toilet and, bless him, left her alone. “The door is open. I don’t care what noises you make, sweetheart. I’ll be here in a flash, you just make a sound.”

“Any sound?” It shouldn’t feel so good to have the assurance, but damn it did.

“Any single one.” The warmth in his eyes comforted her.

“Thank you.”

True to his word, he vanished from the bathroom door, but left it open. The room was chilly, but she managed. Emptying her bladder seemed to take the last of her strength. No sooner did she hit the flush than he reappeared. Without a word, he helped her to the sink and she washed her hands then brushed her teeth with the borrowed toothbrush. The whole time, he kept her braced so his strength kept her on her feet, not her own.

By the time he settled her back on the pallet, she fought to keep her eyes open. Rather than let her lay down again, though, he braced her back to his chest and then held a mug to her lips. Hot soup tasted divine. She drank all of it then the second cup he offered along with some bread.

Resting her head to his shoulder, she attempted to wave off the bottle of water. Dylan, however, proved relentless. He insisted she drink a little more, and then a little more and kept offering until the whole bottle emptied. “All I want to do is sleep,” she said through a yawn.

“Then sleep, darlin’, I’ll be right here.”

Despite the need to close her eyes, she couldn’t quite fall all the way to sleep. He didn’t set her back against the pillow, cradling her against his chest. The skin felt so good against her bare back…
bare
… “Dylan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Am I naked?”

“You sure are, sweetheart. I promise, I liked everything I saw.” The absolute, genuine assurance earned another reluctant laugh.

“I’ll be embarrassed tomorrow.” It would take too much energy at the moment.

“Nothing for you to be embarrassed about. Being naked is natural. We’re wolves, Chrystal. Fur or skin, it’s all the same.”

“Says the man built like a god.” Silence met her statement, and she blinked. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be embarrassed about it tomorrow.” He brushed a kiss to her ear. “Go to sleep, sweet one. You need the rest. Tomorrow, we’re really going to work on your shifting and what you know about being a wolf.”

It sounded reasonable, and his arms were a safe, warm place.

T
hree days
of non-stop snow and Dylan found his earlier joy in the weather declining. Chrystal slept through the night after he poured food into her. He roused her again at dawn, fed her again, helped her to the bathroom then tucked her back in. If he didn’t know she was deep in a healing sleep, he might have worried more. The sweet thing had zero reserves. His body had similar healing to do, but a nap, a good meal and a couple of shifts and he was fine save for a few aches.

Throughout the day, he kept vigil over Chrystal and Mama. The maternal wanted to slip out again with her pup. As with the day before, she returned within an hour. The need to hunt probably drove Mama crazy, but he’d butchered the cat. Beautiful creature put out a valiant fight and he wouldn’t normally use the animal in such a way, but the Mama wolf needed more food than she’d been getting which in turn fed the pup.

After he was done, he’d hauled the remains a considerable distance from the cabin for other scavengers caught off guard by the harsh weather. His cell signal remained kaput, the landlines were down, and no vehicles moved anywhere in the area—at least none within his hearing range. It was only him and Chrystal alone in a sea of white and no certainty on how long the storm would last.

The rapidly darkening sky showed no signs of alleviating cloud cover. He brought in a fresh haul of wood, stoked the fire and checked the generator. Turning it on to make fresh coffee, he also set another panned casserole in to heat.

A sluggish step warned him of her waking before she spoke, “Why do you have so much prepared food?” She leaned in the open door. If not for her exhaustion and injuries, the sleep rumpled expression and disheveled hair coupled with the provocative slip of the blanket off one bare shoulder might be worth further exploration.

“Hunters spend most of our time roaming. Once upon a time, we lived exclusively off the land and what our packmates set aside for us. Some traditions last.” Funny the things he accepted as fact and didn’t consider the history behind. Not anymore. “The casserole will take a while to warm up. Want a sandwich, in the meantime?”

“No more food yet,” she said, rubbing her head against the doorframe lightly as though torn between waking and a discomforting itch. She really was quite adorable. “Coffee smells really good though.”

“Coffee it is.” Though he’d like to send her back to the fire to rest, being on her feet was good for her, too. “How you feeling?”

“Like someone hit me with a truck.” With a grimace, she fought a yawn then scowled when it still stretched her jaw. “I know what that feels like.”

“You got hit by a truck?” Irritation scraped over his raw nerves. He wanted her story. He wanted to know why she grew up isolated from a pack…more, he wanted to know why no one in her new so-called pack hadn’t corrected such egregious errors.

Laughing with a hint of derision, she pushed the hair away from her face and wandered toward the coffee pot. It had almost finished brewing, so he busied himself with adding the sugar and cream she preferred to her mug. Weird. He’d assigned the mug she’d been using as hers…it was just a standard black stoneware mug they stocked in most of the waystations.

“I was out running. I didn’t shift that often, always better not to, but sometimes…” She lifted her bare shoulder in a half shrug.

“Sometimes you have to. Your wolf wants out, and you want to run.” He understood the feeling well.

“Exactly.” A warm smile softened her lips, and she leaned into his side. The need for contact between wolves was a comfortable situation, and he slid an arm around her. “Sorry,” she murmured, but he tightened his arm.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He poured the hot coffee into her mug, stirred it then passed the mug to her. She gripped it one hand, the other hand firm on the blanket. Keeping his arm around her, he poured a second cup for himself. “So you were running…”

At his verbal prod, she nodded, but took a sip of coffee before continuing. “I knew running at night was better. St. George is big, but not so big as to have a wolf population. I knew I wasn’t supposed to ever get caught. Sorry, I’m rambling.” She took another drink. The caffeine and sugar would help, so he waited patiently for her to resume her tale. “Anyway, I was on my way back to the gatehouse I lived in and I was rushing. Sometimes I lose track of time when I shift and also kind of got lost.”

Poor thing sounded so damn forlorn about the admission, he refused to laugh. No one trained her nose or her tracking or looked out for her so she didn’t have to worry about getting lost. It wasn’t funny.

“I got excited when I recognized some of the landmarks and ran hard, then…I didn’t look both ways before crossing a street.”

Dylan winced.

“Needless to say, a truck hit me. It was a glancing blow, but it threw me a few feet off the road. I was stunned, and I’m pretty sure I broke a few ribs.”

Five bucks says the driver didn’t stop.

“I was lucky, though. The driver didn’t stop and I landed near some bushes, so I crawled to hide there. It took me most of the day to get up and walk home, but I managed it. Unfortunately, I was also absent from school, so I had to make up a test and I couldn’t tell anyone why it was hard to breathe.”

I hate being right.
“Who took care of you afterward?”

“Just me. I even wrote my own note excusing my absence.” Still sipping her coffee, she eased away. Unwilling to lose her, Dylan followed her to the living room. The flickering flames, scent of wood smoke and wolf coupled with snow and even the hints of coffee didn’t overwhelm the warmth of her citrus and jasmine scents. Her nostrils flared, and her dark eyes focused on him. “You’re upset.”

“Yes.” No real point in denying it. As far as he could tell, she didn’t read scents well. If she picked out his dislike, he hadn’t been disguising it. At all.

“Why are you so angry?” The question buoyed his confidence in her sense of self. She’d apologized earlier, several times, but she didn’t assume he directed his anger at her.
Good.

Giving into the need, he slid an arm around her and tugged her toward him. When she curled into him, he settled them both on the pallet by the fire, then pulled her onto his lap. Shoulders stiffening, she angled her head to study him.

“Did I hurt you?” Instantly irritated with himself, he frowned.

“No, I—I think you did that too smoothly.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “I like pretty ladies, and holding a pretty lady is never a hardship.”

Her nose wrinkled, whether in disapproval or confusion, he had no idea. Dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, however, sent a wave of heat to her face. The blush suffused her cheeks with pink. “I’m not sure if you
liking
pretty ladies is a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Definitely a good thing.” Once he’d smiled, a second wasn’t so hard to share. “I’m angry because you were on your own.” His parents might be scattered at times, forgetful at others, sometimes so wrapped in their projects or work they didn’t eat for days—but his parents always loved him and his siblings. They’d always done their best. They’d sooner cut off an arm than abandon their children.

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“I know.” Focusing on the flames licking over the wood, he rubbed his cheek against her hair. “That pisses me off, too. I told you, wolves—we—belong in packs. I know all the arguments for Lone Wolves, and I don’t give a damn. We’re pack animals. I roam far and wide. I do it because my pack needs me to be out here. I help our young, our old, and everyone in between. But I wouldn’t
leave
my pack and stay away. I couldn’t, and I don’t want to. Even when they irritate me, they’re an extension of our wild selves and our domestic.”

“That’s a weird way of putting it.” She leaned over and set her coffee cup on the hearth, then struggled to shift the blanket. After helping her cover all her bare skin, he looped his arms around her.

“Why weird?”

“You said earlier the wolf and I were the same, but you’re calling them our wild half and then our domestic…that makes us sound like two beings instead of one.”

Considering her question, he stroked her hip with his thumb. “We are both, really. When you think of your wolf, where do you feel her? In your heart, soul or mind?” His wolf twisted restlessly within at the question, then settled at her steady, deep breaths. She thought about her answer, paying attention to the question. Like a good Hunter, they studied each nuance of her reaction. Was she aware of how her scent changed? He’d caught traces of desire as he’d helped her with the blanket. Or how she relaxed? Instead of holding herself stiffly, she leaned against the circle of his arms.

“I don’t know how I feel her. She’s there. Always, kind of, like, at the edge of my awareness. Sometimes, when I shift, I barely remember anything I do. Other times, it seems really clear…but different.”

“For example?” Should he be digging into her? Was it really his business? His conscience nipped at him. Or maybe it was his wolf. His other half seemed to be watching him as warily as she did.

Only her wariness seemed to soften with curiosity. “A couple of weeks ago, after the waterfall? I remember every part of that run. From the shift to coming here.” When he’d bullied her into shifting in the frigid cold.

“All right.”

“Yesterday? I remember a lot of the going out, but not so much the coming back. It’s a little fuzzy in places.” Which made sense, considering how much pain she’d been in.

“What about before you met me?”

“Most of the time, it was images, feelings—sometimes a scent or a taste would remind me of something I’d done.” She nibbled at her fingernail, suddenly uncertain. “Dylan, I don’t think I always remember I’m human when I shift…is it possible I hurt my wolf’s feelings because I try to not remember I have a wolf a lot?”

His wolf raked his claws inside him, stymying his automatic yes. Chrystal was in a precarious place, one where she explored her wolf half, embracing who she was for the first time.
You’re right, we don’t need to scare her any more than she already has herself.

“I think your wolf loves you as much as you allow yourself to be loved. She is very much a part of you, and maybe she’s a part you’ve denied out of necessity.” Yet… “You’re not denying her anymore.”

“No,” she said with a small smile. “I thought being in a pack would help.”

“Has it?”

“Some. I’m not sure I belong there, or anywhere, but they are nice… Some are scary.”

He zeroed in on the last. “Who is scaring you?”

“No one in particular.” A lie. Her gaze dropped and her posture stiffened. Enough was enough.

Loosening his hold, he touched a finger beneath her chin and nudged her gaze to his once more. “Someone is, because you just lied to me.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“And, before you try to deny it…” He stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “Lying changes our scent a little. We know when we’re not telling the truth, and we experience a bit of guilt, sometimes stubbornness and even fear. You went through all of those. So you lied to me. You lie to me a lot, and I’ve let you do it, but we need to be honest at the moment, Chrystal.
I
need you to be honest.”

Instead of arguing or pulling away, she tilted her head. If she’d been in her little wolf form, he had no doubt her ears would have focused on him as intently as her gaze. “Why?”

“I want to help you. I want to help you with your wolf, with your healing…and with who you are with your wolf. I want to help you find that part of yourself. To do that, I need to know what happened to you.”
And why, but I don’t think you have all the answers. I need to know where to start my hunt.

Her slow blink worried him. Had he pushed too hard? Then she surprised him by laughing. “You don’t even like me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Growling despite his gentler intentions, he didn’t miss the spike of her fear at his snarl.

“You don’t like me. You called me a stray.” Pausing, she bit her lip and then her expression grew more forceful. “You snarl at me every time you see me. And I get it, I’m a trespasser and a stray and a mutt and not a very good wolf. So I get why you don’t like me; I just—don’t get why you want to know more about me if you don’t like me.”

“I never called you a mutt.” Fury lit a match inside his soul.

“You did call me a stray.” No anger met his fury, only gentle curiosity. Was accepting the idea of someone disliking her so simple? Did she not think she had a right to demand better treatment?

“You’re right.” He pushed the words out between clenched teeth. “I meant someone who strayed over the border.” Cupping her chin, he gazed into her eyes until her pupils dilated. “Either way, I apologize for being a jerk. I don’t think of you as a stray or a mutt…I think of you as Chrystal.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” He tracked his gaze down to her lips, then closed the distance between them. “I like you a lot.” The temptation to kiss her ripped through him.

A bad idea—he needed to earn her trust, not to seduce her.

A great idea—he wanted to know what she tasted like.

His conscience wrestled with his wolf, or maybe it was the other way around. “Chrystal?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you’ve been kissed.” His wolf went predator still, and they both locked on her, awaiting the answer.

“Kissed?”

“Say yes,” he said, needing to hear he wasn’t taking advantage of someone who was the emotional equivalent of a juvenile. A wolf who had no experience with packs or courting or the openness they approached relationships.

After moistening her lips—his gut clenched at the action—she blew out a breath then opened her mouth as though to speak but nothing came out.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered, rubbing his nose gently to hers. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Yes. A couple of the boys in high school, one guy at the junior college and one of the wolves in Three Rivers.”

“Okay.” The admission alleviated his guilt some until she reached the last one.
One
of the wolves? Did the wolf have a name? And when did Dylan get to meet him?