True Alpha (30 page)

Clarissa emerged from the cabin with a bowl and several washcloths. She set them on the porch railing while she hopped over it, then picked them up again and hurried to Ronnie, who was still kneeling by Daniel’s side.

“Soak the cloths in the ice water, use them to wrap his legs and then drape one over his forehead,” Ronnie said. “I’ve gotta check on Michael.”

Clarissa dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it lightly before pressing it over his brow. Then she took care of his legs, wrapping him from his paws to his knees with the wet cloths.

Ronnie moved on to Michael, crouching beside Kimberly. They spoke quietly, their heads bowed as Ronnie checked the bandage he’d wrapped Michael’s upper torso in, covering the wound that the burrowing bullet had caused.

Ronnie had torn up his shirt to use as bandages earlier that day; Jack’s clothing was all too small for him, so he continued to go shirtless, apparently impervious to the autumn chill. His broad shoulders and back were covered in a dozen different little scratches, carved by stray branches and thorns. After such a grueling twenty-four hours, it was amazing that he and the others were even still awake. But they were – they carried on, repairing the damage the shifter hunters had inflicted because there was simply no other choice.

“The food’s ready.” Violet opened the screen door and stuck her head out, her gaze darting immediately toward Ronnie and lingering on his broad shoulders, though she looked just as tired and worried as everyone else. She’d volunteered to whip up extra-large batches of the quickest food she could find, as everyone had been too busy searching to eat during the day. The aromas drifting from beyond the screen door indicated that she’d chosen to cook breakfast for dinner – a fitting choice, since no one had eaten breakfast.

“You stay here; I’ll get you a plate.” Jack rose slowly, giving Mandy time to adjust herself so she wouldn’t slump over without his firm body to lean against.

“Thanks,” she said when he emerged a couple minutes later carrying two plates heaped high with pancakes and eggs, balancing them both on his unhurt arm.

The plate he placed in her lap was warm, a welcome contrast to the coolness of the October evening. When he settled beside her again and wrapped his arm around her waist, she forgot about the chill entirely as his heat erased every last trace of coldness from her skin.

“Better eat it while it’s hot,” he said. “Your body needs food so it can heal.”

She’d heal up in the moonlight just fine, but he was right – she needed to eat, especially for the baby’s sake. Problem was, every time she thought back to what had happened in the shack, her mind zoomed back to that terrifying moment when her captor had raised his gun, preparing to bring it down on her belly, and she felt sick with remembered fear. That combined with the pain radiating from her knee and shoulder was a recipe for nausea.

“I made your pancakes sickeningly-sweet, just how you like ‘em,” Jack coaxed.

He had indeed doused her pancakes in so much syrup that they were practically swimming, and yeah, that was the way she liked them. She inhaled, allowing the sweet scent to work its way into her lungs and mind, inciting a craving.

“If you don’t feel like breakfast, I could go inside and get a brownie from your secret stash,” Jack offered.

“It’s not
secret
,” she said, cutting a bite of pancake with the side of her fork and spearing it. “It’s just where I keep them – food, in a cupboard – it’s not that weird.”

“I’m just sayin’, you always hide the brownie container behind the cereal.”

“That’s just so I don’t see the brownies and get tempted to eat one every time I open up the cupboard.”

“Uh-huh.” He shoveled a huge bite of eggs into his mouth. He was half-smiling as he ate, but his eyes seemed a little darker than usual – a duller shade of gold. Regardless of his teasing, she knew he felt the pack’s tension, exhaustion and worry just as strongly as everyone else – even more so. He was the alpha, after all.

After what he’d gone through, she could at least ease his worries a little by eating. She took a small bite of pancakes, letting the syrup spread slowly over her tongue, bathing her taste buds in sweetness.

It was delicious. Her stomach rumbled in response to the taste and she began to eat with more enthusiasm. Behind her, the screen door opened and Violet and Noah emerged. Violet carried several plates with a grace only an experienced waitress could muster.

Noah, on the other hand, was only able to carry two – he’d been shot in one shoulder, and though Ronnie had bandaged his wound expertly, that arm was no use to him until it healed. “I told you, you don’t have to help,” Violet said as they made their way by Jack and Mandy, descending the porch steps. “You should be resting.”

“I’ve already started healing, and I’ll be fine in a few hours,” he insisted. “There’s no reason why I can’t give you a hand.”

Violet
tsked
, and together, they took food to those who were on the lawn.

“It’s just about sunset,” Jack said when he and Mandy had finished their plates. “Would you like to watch it with me?”

“Do I have a choice?” she teased. Seated on the front porch, they could either watch the last of the day’s light fade from the sky, or they could close their eyes.

“Nope. It’s gonna be quite a while before I leave your side.” He drew his arm a tiny bit tighter around her waist, his embrace just snug enough to make her feel close to him without hurting her shoulder.

Jack kept her warm as the last of the day slipped away and dusk settled over the mountains like a blanket. The moon shone from above, gibbous and white, glowing against the darkened sky. Mandy rested her head on Jack’s shoulder and waited for the pain to fade. As soon as her wounds finished healing, she was going to wrap her arms so tightly around him that it would be impossible to tell where she ended and he began.

Little by little, the pain ebbed.

“Clarissa, hand me that knife.” Ronnie’s voice drifted across the yard, steady and determined. “And have the forceps ready. Violet, hold the flashlight steady.”

Mandy didn’t watch as Ronnie operated on Daniel, making a cut that allowed him to reach the buried bullet with his forceps and ultimately succeeding in removing it from Daniel’s abdomen, from the sound of it. “Hold this tight against the wound – apply pressure like this. Don’t be afraid of hurting him, that doesn’t matter – if he loses much more blood, he’ll be dead before the moonlight can patch him back up.”

A pang of deep sympathy sliced through Mandy’s heart – poor Clarissa.

“Violet, can you help me with this?” Ronnie asked.

Mandy glanced over and saw that Ronnie had recruited Violet as his new assistant; Clarissa was still with Daniel, stanching his wound with steady pressure.

“Feelin’ any better?” Jack asked, mercifully distracting her from the scene in the yard, where Ronnie was about to attempt to remove the bullet lodged in her father’s chest.

“The pain is fading.” She closed her eyes and laid her head against his shoulder again.

The conversation that drifted from nearby, mainly between Ronnie and Violet, dominated Mandy’s attention. When things got rough, with blood gushing from the wound while Ronnie couldn’t seem to get ahold of the bullet with the forceps, Mandy held her breath. When she grew lightheaded and realized what she was doing, she exhaled, hastily taking another breath.

Jack tightened his hold on her; he didn’t have to be as gentle, now that her wounds were knitting.

“Stanch the wound,” Ronnie said, his voice calm but commanding. “I can’t see anything – there’s too much blood.”

God, what if her father didn’t make it – what if he really had given his life to save Jack, Violet and Clarissa and to give her and the baby a better chance at survival? She pressed a hand to her belly as her nerves buzzed with anxiety. He’d done a good thing, but she didn’t want it to be his first and only fatherly act. Not just for her mother’s sake, but for her own and the baby’s – he’d proven himself worthy of a second chance. Surely he wouldn’t want to leave after this, not now that his hunters were finally gone.

“Got it,” Ronnie said, his calm tone slipping into a near-sigh. “Apply as much pressure as you can.”

Mandy exhaled in relief, her muscles going limp as she leaned against Jack. It wasn’t over yet, but now all anyone could do was keep pressure on Michael and Daniel’s wounds and wait as the moon worked its magic. Tense minutes ticked by, and as Mandy’s injuries grew less and less painful, she began to feel a little better mentally, too. After all, every minute that Daniel and her father made it through was another step toward survival.

“I want to try to stand,” Mandy said after a while.

“You sure?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. My knee is feeling a lot better.” It still hurt, but it finally felt whole, not shattered.

Jack helped her to stand and pain flared in her knee, more intense than she’d anticipated. Still, it wasn’t unbearable. With Jack’s support, she was able to walk. Slowly, she made her way over to the lawn. “How’s he doing?” she asked as she approached Daniel.

“His fever’s gone,” said Clarissa, “and the bleeding has stopped.”

Mandy’s heart practically melted with relief.

“He’s going to be okay,” Clarissa added, sounding sure of herself. “It’s just a matter of waiting for him to wake up.”

Mandy walked the short distance to where her father was stretched out on bloodied blankets, the only other wolf she’d ever seen with a coat the exact same color as hers. “How is he?” she asked, feeling more timid than she had when she’d asked about Daniel, as if she were intruding on her mother and the man she barely knew, drawn to his side by the knowledge of his sacrifice.

“His pulse has picked up,” her mother said, her voice higher than usual and a little shaky.

“He’s healing,” Ronnie said, his low voice contrasting starkly with hers. “He should make it.”

Relief coursed through Mandy as she stared down at the dark wolf and the woman kneeling by his side. “Mom, you didn’t eat your dinner.” A plate sat beside her folded legs, untouched.

“Oh, I’m not hungry. I’ll eat something later…” She stood slowly, brushing off her legs and sending pieces of grass fluttering onto her food. “Mandy, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She wrapped Mandy in a hug that was just loose enough not to cause her any undue pain. “I was so afraid when your father told me you were missing. How do you feel?”

Your father
. The words echoed through Mandy’s mind, eliciting strange emotions and dozens of questions. “A lot better,” she said absentmindedly, her mind whirling. Would her mother and father go back to being a couple after this, reunited after thirty years of separation and heartbreak? It seemed incredible, but her mother didn’t look as if she ever intended to leave his side.

“I’ll wait with you,” Mandy said, slowly easing herself to the ground as Jack helped, supporting her on the way down. The future of her mother and father’s relationship wasn’t what mattered at the moment – they could cross that bridge when they came to it. For the time being, Mandy settled next to her mother and waited. Jack sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist again.

What would Jack think – what would he say – when her father came around? He’d clearly been furious when he’d spoken with Mandy about her father’s role in the ordeal they’d all just gone through. She couldn’t deny that her father was to blame and didn’t fault Jack for being furious, but no one could hate someone who’d jumped in front of a gun for them, could they?

Chapter 15

Another hour dragged by, and Mandy’s pain became so insignificant that she hardly even felt it. She was able to hurry to Daniel’s side without any help when he woke, rising in his wolf form and quickly pulling a blanket over himself for cover before shifting. “Everyone’s okay?” he asked, his gaze flickering over each person present on the lawn, as if counting and re-counting them. “Where’s Will?”

“He went to take care of the shifter hunters’ bodies,” Clarissa said, the lightness of her tone at odds with her morbid words as she wrapped her arms tightly around Daniel. “How do you feel?”

“Not bad.” He hugged her back, his blanket forgotten. “You weren’t shot, were you?”

“No,” she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

He scowled. “You said something about the shifter hunters’ bodies. Tell me you all killed every last one of those bastards.”