Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) (8 page)

He tried to recall what had happened after she’d gotten him into bed. She’d given him tea and laid down beside him, and they’d joked a little about that. He’d fallen asleep or passed out. And then…

His memories were foggy, but he recalled feeling hot, and then chilled to the bone. He’d had the nightmarish sense that the walls of the cabin were pulsing around him. The blankets were heavy as concrete, threatening to crush him. Every breath had felt like a knife driven through his chest.

And then Laura had woken up, and…

Heat again burned through Roy’s body, but this time it was embarrassment rather than fever. He had a horrifyingly vivid recollection of raving about being alone and in pain and missing his buddies and demanding that she keep watch over him. How pathetic was that?

He crossed his fingers that she’d been half-asleep and wouldn’t remember any of it. But he doubted it. He had the awful feeling that he’d said some very memorable things.

The air was heavy with the smells of blood and sweat and candle wax, overpowering Laura’s lemon-sugar. Roy’s pajamas clung to him, still damp in patches where he’d sweated through them.

He stood up slowly, pistol in hand. His legs felt wobbly and his chest hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He could hardly believe how quickly he’d recovered.

Roy walked out, quietly so as to not wake her. Apart from the bedroom and bathroom, the cabin had one big room divided into areas: an open kitchen separated from a dining room by a counter, and a living room with a sofa, a TV, and a huge picture window. The fire was out in the fireplace, and the wood stove was burning low.

He fed the stove and lit the fire, then went from window to window, looking for signs that the enemy werewolf had returned. The storm was over, though snow was still falling gently. Laura’s car was buried up to the windows. No footprints or paw-prints marred the thick carpet of white.

Roy went outside, pistol ready, and made a sweep around the cabin, using all his senses to search for any trace of a hidden enemy. He found nothing but snow and trees and earth, fluffed-up birds in the trees and rabbits hiding underground.

He risked a quick trip to the barn. There he grabbed the clothes and toothbrush George had so generously bought for him, claiming that Roy had saved him from having to pay a contractor hundreds of dollars to fix the roof. Roy had managed to get George’s pajamas on, barely, but only because pajamas were supposed to be baggy. No way would he fit into anything else George owned.

The cold sank painfully into Roy’s wound, and he started feeling shaky and chilled on the return trip. Werewolf healing powers notwithstanding, the trip to the barn had been pushing it. He locked the cabin door behind him, listened to Laura’s peaceful breathing, and walked to the bathroom—slowly—to take a hot shower.

Roy opened the door, then stopped and stared. No wonder he’d smelled blood—it was all over the place. He must have scared Laura half to death.

The last thing he felt like doing was getting down his hands and knees and scrubbing the floor, but he couldn’t leave that horrifying mess for Laura to mop up. He spent a good half-hour cleaning the bathroom before he stepped into the shower, leaving the blood-soaked rug and the clothes he’d worn the night before in a tied-off trash bag.

Roy leaned against the tiled wall, letting the hot water wash over him. It soaked the bandages on his chest and back until the tape peeled away. The wound in his chest was raw and red, surrounded by a huge black bruise, but closed and visibly healing, as if it had been inflicted weeks ago rather than the night before. The water stung a little, and the soap stung a lot. But it was a good kind of pain, the type that said his body was working right.

He reluctantly got out of the shower, dried off, and used the last two bandages in the little first aid kit, thankful that he had enough shoulder flexibility to stick one on his back. After he’d spent the night babbling God knows what at Laura, he didn’t want to have to ask her for any more help.

She was still breathing in the deep, peaceful rhythm of sleep when he put the pistol in his belt and left the bathroom. He walked softly, barefoot, so as not to wake her as he went to the kitchen. There he rummaged through the supplies and started some coffee, then mixed up pancake batter.

When the first pancake started sizzling, he heard Laura’s breathing change. A moment later, she bolted into the kitchen, her hair adorably mussed. There was a smear of dried blood on her cheek, but no injury. His blood, he supposed.

Her jaw dropped when she saw him. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were hard to kill. There were a couple moments I was afraid you weren’t going to make it. When you woke up in the middle of the night and said—”

“I’m a lot better now,” Roy said hastily. He flipped a pancake. “Do you like blueberries in your pancakes?”

Laura grinned. “That’s a blueberry pie on the counter, but let’s go for a double. Throw them in.”

“If you take a shower now, they’ll be ready by the time you’re out.”

She gave him a look that made him wonder if he had said something wrong.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you
need
a shower,” he said. “Just that if you were going to take one…”

“Of course I need a shower. I’m covered in your sweat and…” She rubbed at the blood on her face, then glanced at her fingers. The smile fell off her face, and she walked out without another word.

Roy stood looking out at the empty air where she had been until he smelled his pancakes burning. He threw them out and added blueberries to the batter, listening to the shower running.

He felt terrible. That man who had attacked her must have actually been after Roy—why else would another werewolf have showed up in the middle of nowhere and out of the blue? Roy had thought he’d been keeping others out of danger by not contacting anyone he knew, but all he’d really done was endanger a completely different set of people.

Even though Laura hadn’t been physically hurt, she’d obviously been traumatized by seeing him get shot. Witnessing that sort of violence up close and personal was hard on anyone, even Marines. And she was a civilian, a bank teller and an actor’s daughter. It didn’t get any more peaceful than that.

He had to get out of her life before someone else came after him, and she again got caught in the crossfire.

A wave of dizziness swept over Roy. He staggered to the nearest chair and fell into it, feeling like he’d just powered through the world’s toughest obstacle course. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten that worn out from taking a short walk and making pancakes. Okay, and scrubbing his own blood off the bathroom floor.

I’ll give myself a week to recover, max, and
then
I’ll get out of her life,
he promised himself.

It was probably the aftereffects of his injury, but he felt empty inside. Like he was lost and alone and freezing to death.

The soft padding of Laura’s footsteps jarred him out of his gloom. She was a delicious sight in black jeans and a pale blue blouse with lace around the throat, every bit of it hugging her luscious curves. Her dainty little feet were bare, with pink polish on her toenails.

While he was still debating whether he could stand up, she brought the pancakes and plates to the table, then whisked herself back to the kitchen.

“Cream and sugar?” she called.

“Yes, please.”

He watched her as she fixed the coffee, hers with two spoons of cream and no sugar. He filed that away for future reference. Laura settled down across from him and passed him his cup.

“Thanks for cleaning the bathroom,” she said.

Roy shrugged. “It was the least I could do. It was my blood.”

Laura pushed the pancake platter over. The scents of coffee and pancakes and melting butter rose up, making him ravenous. Laura apparently felt the same way. For a while, they were both too busy devouring blueberry pancakes to speak.

Roy felt better once he’d gone through a stack of pancakes, a slice of pie, and a mug of coffee. He took a second slice of pie, then stole a glance at Laura, who was still working on her pancakes. Her drying hair curled in wisps around her face, and her own tangy scent wafted up from her fresh-scrubbed skin.

She abruptly looked up, catching him watching her.

“I wanted to tell you…” Roy began, then stopped. There was a lot he wanted to tell her, but some of it would be dangerous for her to know and some of it would be unfair for him say when he didn’t plan to stick around.

He settled on, “You saved my life three times over.”

“Three times?”

He ticked them off on his fingers. “Once by shielding me with your own body. Once by hauling me out of the snow. And once by… um… keeping me warm.”

Heat crept across his cheekbones. It was ridiculous, but he was blushing like a boy.

Laura gave him a mischievous smile. “It was my pleasure.”

Roy told himself that no matter how tempting it was, he was not going to take advantage of her when he planned to leave in a few days and never see her again.

Determinedly, he went on, “When you ran out after I got shot and guarded me—that was one of the bravest things I’ve seen in my life.”

He’d expected her to be gratified, but she looked disbelieving. Worse, her lower lip quivered as if she was about to cry. Did she think he was playing her?

She stared down at her plate, mashing a blueberry with her fork. “I know you mean well, but…”

“I’m serious,” Roy insisted. “Yeah, I’ve seen people run out under fire to drag someone to safety. But they were Marines. They were trained and armed, and they had body armor and covering fire. You did it unarmed and untrained, with no protection and no one to back you up.”

At that, Laura’s coffee-brown eyes met his. Softly, she said, “I did have someone. I had you.”

The emotion in her voice was so raw and sincere that Roy had to look away. Why did he have to meet Laura now, when his very presence endangered her?

“Had you ever seen that guy before?” he asked, to change the subject.

“Never.” Laura recounted how he’d pounced on her, and she’d stalled him while extracting information.

Roy was impressed. “That was some cool thinking under pressure. Well, I never saw him before either. But I think he was after me, and you were just in the way. I already got captured by bad guys once.”

“Werewolf bad guys?” Laura asked eagerly.

“I have no idea.”

She leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You promised to tell me about the werewolf thing. So tell.”

Roy hesitated, then figured he should at least explain why he was hesitating. “I’m trying to figure out what would be safe for you to know.”

“I already know that werewolves exist. And that your buddy DJ is one too—”

Roy’s hand jerked, knocking over his coffee mug. He grabbed it before it could roll off the table. “How did you know about DJ?”

Laura pulled back, her eyes widening with alarm. “You told me yourself!”

“I did? Damn.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Not much. It’s all hazy.” Roy almost didn’t want to know, but he had to ask. “What else did I tell you?”

A wicked smile curled Laura’s lips. “Well, you told me all about your first crush…”

“I did not!” Then, doubtfully, he asked, “Did I?”

Deadpan, she added, “And then you gave me a play-by-play account of how you lost your virginity.”

Roy had a moment of ultimate embarrassment before he realized that she was pulling his leg. “This is so unfair. I need to get you drunk or something, so we can be even. Come on, what did I really say?”

The amusement faded from her pretty face. “You said you missed your buddies.”

“What else?”

Laura started to reach out toward him, like she was going to take his hand. Then she jerked it back, as if she hadn’t meant to make that gesture. “You said you needed your pack.”

“My pack?” Roy repeated blankly. “You mean my rucksack?”

Laura looked intrigued. “Funny you should say that. That’s what I thought you meant, too. You said you meant your wolf pack. You said you didn’t know where they were or who they were, but you needed them.”

Roy wondered what the hell he’d meant by that. It sounded like a fever dream. But when he imagined being a wolf and running with a pack, the loneliness that had gnawed at him ever since he’d been changed rose up to engulf him, like he was falling into a vast, black nothingness…

“Roy!”

He jerked himself back to reality. “What’s the matter?”

“I was about to ask you that.” She sounded scared. “You went white. I thought you were going to pass out.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he confessed. “And I don’t know what I meant about the wolf pack. I don’t know… I don’t know a lot of things.”

“Do you have amnesia?” Laura asked curiously.

Roy almost laughed. “No. I can see why you’d think that, though… Okay, I’ll tell you my story. Hang on, I’ll clear the table first.”

He was buying himself time, though he knew it was pointless. Clearing the table would only get him a few seconds, or minutes if he also washed the dishes. But he couldn’t help trying to delay telling Laura that story. He had never told it to anyone. All the therapist at the hospital-lab had gotten out of him was, “The last thing I remember was this huge explosion.”

Roy stood up. He instantly realized that he’d done so too quickly. His vision grayed out, and the floor seemed to slide out from under him. He clutched wildly for the table, and caught Laura’s warm, soft body instead.

Laura braced him as he tried to regain his balance. The dizziness faded, but again left him shaky.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He was still leaning on her, afraid that he’d fall if he let go.

“Forget the story. You’re going back to bed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not even close to fine,” she retorted.

“This happened before,” he said. That obviously didn’t reassure her. “It only lasted a few seconds.”

“That’s plenty of time to fall over and hit your head.”

“I don’t want to go to bed, okay?” Roy cautiously stepped away from Laura. He had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling.