Читать книгу Silence of the Wolves - Hannah Pole - Страница 11

Leyth lay on the floor of the woodland, naked as the day he was born. The twigs and dead leaves beneath him dug into his now very human skin, but that was nothing in comparison to the fear Tamriel was clearly experiencing. Hell, he hadn’t known what to do. Try as he might, he just couldn’t outrun her. She was too goddamn stubborn for her own good, and would not give up the chase. Eventually he’d seen no other way out, so he’d shifted back into human form.

He watched her carefully, his hand brushing her arm ever so lightly. Her wide green eyes tracked his every movement, her mouth hanging open.

‘What the hell?’ she struggled out, wild eyes darting from him to the surrounding trees. She almost looked as if she expected someone to jump out from the woodland and shout ‘April fools!’

‘Tamriel, I’m so sorry,’ he repeated, struggling for words. What the hell could he tell her? There was no other explanation for what she’d just witnessed, for what he was, other than the truth. ‘I’m a werewolf.’

She openly gaped at him, and it broke his damn heart. That moment they’d just shared, when she believed him to be just a wolf, was so special; it was an emotionally raw moment where he’d put all his trust in her and she in him. And that was something he’d never done before; as wolf or human, he’d never trusted a female enough to get close to her.

Now she had to trust him; she had to believe the words he had to tell her or it could kill her. But forcing them out of his mouth was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. This was going to destroy her life and everything she knew about herself. It could ruin her.

‘Tamriel, I’m a werewolf.’ He hurt for her as he said the words. ‘And so are you.’

For the longest of moments she just stood there, staring. It looked for all the world like she was processing everything that had just happened. Analysing it, trying to make sense of it.

Leyth drew in a breath, waiting. Waiting.

Tamriel spun on her heel and ran. Christ she was fast.

Leyth didn’t wait; a heartbeat later he was hightailing it after her, the trees of the woodland blurring past as he ran, desperately trying to keep up with her. His leg roared in pain; the damn limb had broken as he’d hit the ground and he hadn’t had enough time for it to heal properly. Wolves in general had exceptional healing abilities; a broken bone could heal in a matter of hours not weeks, but he hadn’t had time to rest. Nevertheless, he shoved the pain aside and struggled onwards, he was not losing her now.

For miles they ran, Leyth chasing her up the hills and down the other side, shouting after her all the time. She was relentless, never slowing to catch her breath, never pausing to check behind her. She ran like a true wolf; deadly focused on her destination.

‘Tamriel!’ Leyth roared, though his voice was now hoarse from shouting, his feet were cut and bloody from the woodland floor, and he was so damn cold he felt as though his toes were going to fall off. Being naked in the middle of the woods in December would do that to you.

Up ahead, Tamriel whipped around the edge of a tree, darting at a sharp angle in another attempt to lose him. He lost sight of her for just a moment, but that was all it took; as he rounded the corner, she was gone. He couldn’t see her anywhere. Crap. Scanning the surrounding trees, Leyth paused to catch his breath, listening intently. He could only hear the sounds of the woodland, but as he strained his ears, picking past the usual sounds of nature, he found what he was looking for. The crunch of twigs and dead leaves on the ground, a sound that was only made by heavy human feet.

The noise seemed to be coming from his left, and it didn’t take long for him to be roaring through the woodland once again in that direction. He rounded a corner, then another, before stopping dead as a scream rippled through the woodland. A scream that was deafening to his ears, and all but ripped his heart from his chest. A scream that came from Tamriel’s lips.

Leyth didn’t wait, didn’t give himself time to wonder, he just ran as hard and as fast as he could in the direction that terrifying noise came from.

‘Tamriel!’ he screamed, rushing past the trees, his eyes searching the area, desperately seeking any sign of her. The coppery scent of blood filled his senses as he ran, forcing panic to surge to the surface and his feet moved even faster, if that was possible. Through the woods he ran, following his nose, screaming her name.

He came to a halt in a small clearing and what lay on the ground in front of him was enough to make him want to scream. Tamriel lay face down on the ground, covered in blood, a hefty fallen branch of a dead tree sticking out of her back.

Leyth bolted forward, trying to assess the damage. Crap. Her foot was caught in some wire mesh, designed to trap foxes and rabbits. She’d obviously fallen hard after getting her foot caught in that trap, her ankle was twisted and broken and, by the looks of it, she’d fallen on a broken tree branch. The thing had pierced straight through her stomach and had come out the other side.

‘Tamriel!’ he whispered, crouching next to her. She couldn’t have died. She just couldn’t. Not now. He carefully brushed aside her beautiful black hair, and felt the smooth skin on her neck for a pulse.

For a few painstaking moments, he found nothing. But when the small beat touched his fingertips, his heart leapt. She was alive, just.

Scanning his surroundings, Leyth tried desperately to work out what to do. Her fragile figure was broken and bleeding, the blood pulsing out and forming a shimmering pool on the floor.

He couldn’t leave her here, and he couldn’t call an ambulance. How would it look; him being naked next to an injured woman? And what would they think when she woke up screaming that a wolf who had turned into a man was chasing her? Shit.

He wished with all his might that he had his jacket on him, then he could radio through to the mansion and call for help. He looked up at the sky; by his estimate it was about 7 p.m., the two of them had been darting through the woods all day, and now the sun was finally beginning to sink beneath the horizon. He didn’t really have much of a choice.

Gritting his teeth, Leyth slowly bent down to assess Tamriel’s wound. It was bad. Really bad.

He moved over to her ankle, releasing it from the wire trap and bending the metal beyond repair. Maker knew he hated those cruel things.

He gently scooped Tamriel into his arms. The branch came with her, refusing to slide out of her stomach and, frankly, that was possibly the best thing. If he took it out, she might bleed out.

With urgency heating his veins, Leyth carefully turned her body over, cradling her against his chest like a child. Her skin was so damn pale; she was losing blood fast. Once he was sure she was still breathing and he had a good grip on her, he used his fingers to feel for the all-too-familiar tension of the shadows; he would need as much darkness as he could get to try and take them to somewhere safe unnoticed. He was, after all, a fully naked man carrying a bleeding, unconscious woman with a goddamn tree sticking out of her gut.

Tugging the darkness of the early evening around him, he bolted out of the woodland as far and as fast as he damn well could. His leg roared in agony, his feet felt as though they had been skinned alive, but he didn’t care. He needed to get Tamriel to safety, and at this moment nothing else mattered.

Finally, after what felt like hours of running, Leyth broke free of the woodland and bolted through the fields at its edge, launching himself over the fence at the bottom in one hit. The cool pavement that lined the streets was a godsend for his feet, but he didn’t slow down, just kept going.

He shot past a group of teens that were leaning against the wall lining one side of the street. That earned him a few confused curses but, hell, he ran fast. By the time they’d realised he was there, he was gone again, and thankfully the winter evening darkness hid him, mostly. The shadows cloaking him in a layer of darkness would on a normal night make him nigh invisible, but now? Injured, with Tamriel in his arms? It just made him harder to spot.

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.

‘Now do it, turn yourself into a wolf.’

Leyth silently hid a grin. Tam was making him shift into wolf right in front of her, in a completely open space so there was no way he could hide any ‘tricks’.

She was smart. She was making sure it was a true change, not a trick of the brain.

‘OK, I’m going to shift now,’ Leyth said calmly, bending down onto his knees and calling the wolf at his core, who came happily bounding to the surface. Leyth tried his best to shift slowly, to make the change happen in a way that she could watch and attempt to understand.

His bones began to crack and writhe within his skin. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as the change took him. It was as intense as an orgasm; the feeling overwhelmed you, forced you to be still, to do nothing but ride out the waves of pain and ecstasy. It was all he could feel, all he could think of. Slowly his bones began to split, to bow and break, reforming into that of the wolf; his legs shortened, his ribcage collapsed, his shoulders dislocated and shifted downwards to their new position. His spine began to lengthen, forming a skinny tail as his face began to collapse and rebuild itself, forming a muzzle. His ears stretched and shifted, rising to the top of his head before, finally, the itching began. His skin distorted and writhed, giving way to black and grey fur that broke out of his pores in waves, covering him from nose to tail.

When it was finally over, he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Tamriel, who had turned even paler. If that was physically possible.

‘H-h-oly shit,’ she stammered, her eyes wide and wild.

‘Come here,’ she commanded. ‘Slowly.’ Though it came out gently, almost a whisper, as she tried to digest the situation. Leyth did as she asked and came to stand next to her. She was sat on the sofa, wrapped in a myriad of blankets. She carefully ran a hand across his fur, wincing as she moved.

‘Right. Now change back into a man,’ she croaked.

Leyth did as he was asked, reversing the process, allowing his body to break and reshape. He could feel Tamriel watching him intently, her keen eyes searching for any hidden trick, any explanation for what was happening. After all, magic rarely had a logical explanation.

‘Oh hell,’ she stammered when he was finally finished, eyeing him as he studiously dragged the little towel around his waist to cover himself. ‘You really are a werewolf.’

‘Yeah.’ His voice was hoarse, shifting twice in quick succession would do that to you. ‘So are you.’

‘I can…’ She absently rubbed her eyes. ‘I can do that?’

‘Well, we’ll see.’

She cleared her throat. ‘That doesn’t explain why I’m not practically dying. If this wound was as bad as you’ve made it out to be, how am I still breathing?’

‘Wolves have exceptional healing capabilities. You’ve slept through the worst of it. We can heal a broken bone in a matter of hours. What would kill a human only wounds us.’

‘Right.’ She snorted, though even as she tried to laugh it off, he could see her mind working at a hundred miles an hour behind those green eyes. ‘I’ve always been a fast healer, cuts go in hours not days, bruises are gone in minutes.’

‘And now you’ve been through your fever, you will heal even faster. You have to as a wolf. Your body needs to be able to break down and rebuild itself quickly when you change and, as a result, can heal much faster than that of a human.’

Leyth watched Tamriel as she tried to digest everything that had happened to her over the last few hours.

‘My fever?’

‘You went through the fever over the last few days. Doc and I looked after you.’

‘I was in a medical clinic, wasn’t I?’ She winced.

‘Yes.’ Leyth confirmed. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah, my head just hurts,’ Tamriel replied. Crap, he realised he hadn’t even offered her a drink. He was such an arse. Shooting to his feet, he stalked into the kitchen, filled a glass with water and rooted through her drawer for some asprin.

‘Here.’ He handed her the water and, as she took it, her fingers brushed his, sending ripples of heat shooting up his arm. For a heartbeat he stood, staring at his hand. What the hell was that?

‘You should—’ He cleared his throat. ‘You should let me check that.’ He waved a hand towards her stomach.

‘OK,’ she said, sipping the water. She looked a little dazed still and, to be honest, he was surprised she was going to let him. Hell, this female had so much fight in her; she was so irritatingly stubborn, he had honestly expected her to fight him, to suffer through the pain and try to do everything herself.

‘OK then.’

Yet as he looked at her, he could see through that strength, and he caught a brief glimpse of the vulnerable, scared female hiding underneath. The female who was in a great deal of pain, who had literally just witnessed her world come crashing down before her.

‘I’m going to move you, if that’s OK,’ he grunted, watching her carefully.

‘Do it,’ she replied, locking eyes with him. He watched that vulnerability disappear and the annoyingly cold determination fill her gaze. Carefully he moved forward, sliding his arms around her. As her skin touched his, those bizarre ripples of heat flowed through him once again.

What on earth was happening to him? He hadn’t been with a female for Maker only knew how long. His traitorous manhood leapt to attention, making his heart thud even harder. He needed to get laid. His body was betraying him at the sight of any female, obviously. And this was one female he did not want to get involved with. Hell, he didn’t want to get involved with any female.

Shoving those ridiculous thoughts aside, he focused on wrapping his arms around her and then lifted her fragile body up off the sofa as carefully as he could, not wanting to hurt her. Slowly, he spun her around so she was lying on her back on the sofa, and gingerly fingered the sheet covering her.

‘Just do it.’

Damn, she was infuriatingly stubborn. Here he was, trying to be nice and gentle and she was barking orders at him anyway. Bunching up one of the discarded blankets, he draped it over her chest so she could cover herself while he checked her stomach. She held the blanket tightly around her breasts as he carefully slid the sheet covering her downwards, exposing her stomach.

Leyth caught himself almost sighing as her pale skin slowly came into sight. What the hell had come over him? Telling himself to get a grip, he unwrapped the bandage on her abdomen. It was a little awkward, but this strange moment was the closest he’d been to a female in years. His heart was hammering his ribcage so damn hard he wasn’t entirely sure the thing wasn’t going to punch straight through his skin and out the other side. Goddamn he needed to get laid.

Finally the bandage gave way to her milky skin, and as he lifted the soft gauze, the horrific wound came into sight. Lord almighty, it was bad. Though it was healing well, the wound was still huge, a circular hole as big as his own fist marred her skin just to the left of her belly button. The bleeding had stopped, but the skin was puckered and looked incredibly sore.

‘Holy hell,’ she exclaimed, looking down at herself.

‘Told you it was bad,’ he muttered, setting the bandage aside and reaching for the medical bag Doc had left behind. He pulled out some disinfectant and antibiotic cream and began to clean the wound. Tamriel hissed as the liquid hit her, making him curse internally as his eyes caught hers. She had closed her lids over those emerald eyes, clearly not wanting to look weak in front of him, yet he could see the tears threatening to spill.

‘It’s OK,’ he said soothingly. Damn, he was no good at this nice guy crap. Yet all he wanted to do was look after her, stop the pain and the hurt, and ease the confusion riding her mind. Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? ‘I’ll be done in a minute, hang tight,’ he added gruffly.

When the disinfectant had been applied, he smeared cream across the wound, making her delicate features twist into controlled agony. Anger flared, roaring to the surface. It was anger at himself for scaring her to the point that she felt she had to run away from him. It was his damn fault she was in this much pain and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

‘I’m going to put a fresh bandage on, cool?’ he said as calmly as he could, though his mind was anything but calm.

‘Yup,’ she whispered.

When he was finished, she sat up and put weight on her feet, wincing. He could literally feel the waves of fear and pain washing off her, see the tears wanting to spill and watched as her face contorted with unspoken agony, yet even as he could see, hear and sense the pain she was in, he could see her desperately trying not to show him that fear; she wanted him to believe her to be strong, to show no weakness. And it was more than a little infuriating.

‘Ready?’ he grunted, sliding a hand awkwardly underneath her back and lifting her midriff off the sofa, a combination of his efforts and hers had her arching her back in one hell of a curve so he could quickly wrap the bandage around her, keeping the gauze in place.

But as she arched, he couldn’t move. His breath hitched in his throat as his gaze took her in. Unwanted images flickered through his mind, images of her arching her back like that for him in a very different way. Desire punched him, hard, hitting below the belt.

‘Do it,’ she grunted.

Crap. He really needed to get away from this female before he did something he would regret. He could not be getting involved with any female, let alone one as vulnerable as Tamriel.

Leyth made quick work of wrapping the bandage around her stomach, then hastily covered her in blankets, keeping his eyes anywhere but on her. His traitorous crotch refused to cooperate, fighting against his jeans.

‘You OK?’ he growled.

‘Yup,’ she said through gritted teeth.

He could see the exhaustion sweeping through her. ‘Do you mind if I grab a shower?’ He motioned to the dried blood still covering his arms and chest.

‘Sure. Go ahead,’ she mumbled, waving towards the bathroom.

‘Good. Try to sleep.’

He was almost certain she would be out like a light before he’d even left the room, and maybe that was for the best.