Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel (18 page)

“Well,
that’s
not good.” Lionel peered at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re really white.”

“I’m fine.” She wished she could try to connect telepathically with Jake, but Lionel might notice her acting strangely and ask more questions.

“Let me take that backpack. You look like you’re about ready to fall down.”

She let him have it. No harm in that. “I’m not used to guns going off.” She took a shaky breath. “Listen, that wolf’s probably miles away by now. Let’s go back to my cabin.”

“Okay.” Lionel nodded, although he seemed reluctant to leave. He kept glancing toward the trees. “I’ll drive you. My truck’s not too far from here.”

“Good.”

He started off, the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Her heart still back in the woods with Jake, she forced herself to leave. She had to get Lionel out of here. She lengthened her strides to keep up with him as they walked back down the trail.

He glanced over his shoulder and slowed down. “Am I going too fast for you?”

“No, no. I want to get back.” Mostly she wanted Lionel to get back, and then she had to find a way to ditch him. She hoped Jake would circle around to her cabin, even if he could heal his wounds by himself. They had unfinished business.

“We’ll be there before you know it, Miss M. After I take you home, lock yourself inside and stay there until I’ve bagged that wolf.”

She sucked in a breath and her vision blurred for a second. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Let him go, Lionel. I promise you he’s not a threat to anyone.”

“After what I just saw, you can’t promise that. He’s wild and he’s dangerous. No telling what he did to escape from his cage and come back here. There could be people lying in the road with their throats ripped out, for all we know.”

“Lionel, that’s ridiculous.” If only she could tell him how ridiculous that scenario was, but she couldn’t.

“I wish I’d nailed him when I had the chance, but when I saw you down on the ground, and him looming over you like he was about to have you for breakfast, I was shaking so bad my aim was off. Some hero I am.”

She offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Lionel had been shaken enough to affect his aim. He hadn’t managed to kill Jake. Now she had to make sure he didn’t get a second chance. “Lionel, I’m begging you not to go after him.”

“Sorry, Miss M. I stood by while you kept that wolf in your house, but at least then he was wounded and weak. You may not want to believe that he means to hurt you, but I know what I saw.”

“I was talking to him.” She realized that might sound odd. “You know, soothing him with my voice.”

“While you were on the ground?”

“Yes, that seemed the best way to—”

“Because he knocked you over, right?”

“No, he didn’t. I wanted to get down on his level. He’s . . . he’s more like a dog than a wolf.” Jake would hate to hear her say such a thing. “Trust me, he’s harmless.”

“You always want to think the best of everyone, Miss M, including that wolf. But when I came through the trees, he was completely focused on you. His eyes were like laser beams trained right on you, which means only one thing. He was ready to take you out.”

Rachel racked her brain trying to think of a way to buy Jake some time. “How are you planning to hunt him?” The idea of Jake being hunted sent chills down her spine.

“Track him.” They reached the truck and Lionel opened the passenger door for her. “If I’m lucky, I nicked him bad enough that he’s bleeding and I can follow a trail of blood.”

She was determined not to panic. Instead of getting into the cab, she turned to Lionel. “If you’re dead set on doing this, I’m going with you. Let’s go find that wolf.” She could slow him down at the very least and interfere with his aim if he got close enough to shoot.

“I’m not taking you, Miss M. You don’t have the stomach for killing a wolf. I get that, this wolf being your inspiration and all, but—”

“Lionel, if you shoot him, I’ll never be able to carve again.” She looked him straight in the eye when she said it. Maybe the dramatic statement would work. He was young and impressionable. Besides, she’d spoken the God’s truth. She couldn’t imagine living and working in a world that didn’t have Jake in it.

“Aw, Miss M. Don’t say something like that. It’s only a wolf.”

She thought maybe she’d struck a nerve. “No, he’s my wolf, Lionel. Don’t kill my wolf.”

Lionel blew out a breath and looked down at the ground. “I don’t like the idea of him running around loose.” He glanced up, his broad, honest face filled with concern. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know you are. Look, I’ll go home and stay in my house. I won’t do anything foolish.” Or anything more foolish than she’d already done, which gave her plenty of leeway. “I’m sure the wolf only wants to get away and be left in peace. Give him a chance to do that, okay?”

“It’s against my better judgment, but if that’s how you want it, okay. If he shows up at your place, you have to call me.”

“I will.” But she wouldn’t promise to make that call immediately.

Jake had really screwed himself. Because he’d acted like a total idiot and shifted in a place that wasn’t secure, he had a bullet in his shoulder. He’d never been shot before, and he would have loved to have missed that special experience. He wasn’t a fan of pain, and his shoulder hurt like the very devil.

Worse yet, he needed help. After bragging to Rachel about a Were’s ability to heal, he was faced with something he couldn’t handle by himself. Closing the wound with the bullet still in his shoulder wasn’t smart. Someone would have to take it out.

Yeah, right.
Someone.
He had only one option within a radius of a hundred miles, and he damned well knew it. Furthermore, he’d put himself in this pickle as a result of mismanaging his situation with her. How fitting that he’d have to swallow his pride and go crawling to her, begging for her medical expertise.

He wouldn’t be required to crawl or beg, though, and he knew that. She would help without being asked. She was that kind of person, that kind of
human
. He admired the hell out of her.

Resting on a bed of pine needles deep in the forest, he calculated the passage of time by watching the shadows. He wanted to give Rachel a chance to go home and ease Lionel gently out the door. That wouldn’t be easy. The kid had appointed himself her protector.

Jake couldn’t blame him for firing that gun. He’d thought Rachel was in danger and had acted accordingly. In Lionel’s place, Jake would have done the same.

Only Jake could shoulder the blame, literally, for this fiasco. The saving grace, if there was one, might be Rachel’s strong reaction to his shift. She’d expected roses and lollipops and he’d disabused her of that fantasy today. Maybe now she’d give up her crazy idea that they should risk a life together.

Sharp longing made him groan aloud. Mental pain could rival the ache of a bullet buried in his flesh. But no matter how much he craved the same thing she did, he couldn’t let her know. Mating with her would be an act of pure selfishness.

At last he decided enough time had passed that he could chance sending her a message. That in itself was amazing. She’d taken it as a sign that they were destined for each other. He couldn’t go along with that. But scientifically speaking, she was an unusual human.

He knew several Were scientists who would be excited to discover Rachel’s ability to link telepathically with a werewolf. They would never get the chance to study the phenomenon, though. That would mean revealing what he’d shared with her, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Shifting his weight on the pine needles, he focused his mind on Rachel, searching for her the way he might turn the dial of a radio looking for a station he wanted. There. The link seemed to light up a part of his brain, and he could see her as if she sat next to him.

He sent her his question.
Are you alone?

Yes. How are you?

He gave a little sigh of resignation. Admitting his weakness, even to someone who wouldn’t judge him, wasn’t easy.

Jake? Are you badly hurt?

Bullet lodged in my shoulder. Need you to take it out so I can heal.

Oh, my God. Are you mobile? I can come there.

Making his way back to her would cost him through loss of blood, but he’d rather be in her cabin for the bullet removal and recovery period.
I’ll come to you. Watch for me by the back door.

I’ll be there. Be careful.

Thanks. That warning comes a little late.

I know. Just get here, Jake.
Her concern reached across the distance between them.

He rose from the blood-soaked bed of pine needles. Then he had another thought.
Where’s Lionel?
If the kid showed up with a gun, Jake was too weak to outrun him.

He promised not to search for you today. You have time to come to me.

Thank you.
He was amazed that she’d been able to keep Lionel from tracking him down. The kid’s instincts were good. He sensed that Rachel was in some kind of danger from this wolf she’d been hanging out with, although he didn’t understand the nature of the threat. Lionel was worried about a broken neck, not a broken heart.

Jake thought about Lionel as he made his slow and painful way through the trees. He wondered if Rachel had considered Lionel when she’d dreamed up her plan to run off and live with the wolves. Lionel couldn’t do that, so what did she imagine would become of him? He wasn’t launched on a career of his own yet. He needed a boost from Rachel before that could happen.

Obviously Rachel hadn’t taken all the issues into account when she’d blithely announced that she was ready to mate with Jake. Her suggestion had been an impulse, and like so many impulses, it would be discarded when reality allowed her to see the impossibility of that dream.

Still, the idea that she’d even have that thought was surprising. He’d assumed she wouldn’t want to mate with a werewolf any more than he wanted to mate with a human. He’d underestimated her ability to adapt to a changing situation.

Her flexibility was far greater than his. But then, she wasn’t dealing with such high stakes. By choosing to mate with a Were, she’d have some personal challenges, but she wouldn’t be paving the way for a potential assault on her entire species. He would. Or at least that’s how he saw it.

The trip back to Rachel’s cabin seemed five times longer than the hike out, but at last he saw her place through the trees. He paused and sniffed the air. He didn’t smell anyone’s scent but hers, but he wasn’t at his best right now.

He’d lean on that telepathic connection again.
I’m close to your cabin. Are you still alone?

Jake, thank God. Yes, I’m alone. Do you need help?

No, I’ll make it there under my own power.
With one more check of the perimeter, he headed for her back deck. He’d never expected to climb these steps again as a wolf, yet here he was.

She stood with the door open. Although she was in shadow, every line of her body communicated anguish.
Oh, Jake.

It’s only a scratch.
He couldn’t resist acting like a hero from an old Western.

That’s what they all say.
Once he was inside, she lapsed into regular speech. “I’ve made up your bed like it was before. Go on in and lie down. I have water boiling.”

Tension eased out of him the moment he stepped into her cabin. He would be okay. Rachel would make sure of it. He could relax now and concentrate on recovering from this latest insanity.

Padding over to the bed she’d created with her quilt was like coming home. He was careful about how he climbed onto it, though. He suspected last time he’d stained it with his blood. Sighing, he settled down on his right side, leaving his bloody left shoulder accessible.

He didn’t fool himself into thinking this would be a lot of fun. Digging out a bullet was a serious proposition. But his trust in Rachel was absolute, and without a single reservation, he surrendered himself to her care.

Her almond scent preceded her into the bedroom. “I’m ready to do this, Jake, but I don’t have any anesthetic.”

I know.

“I do, however, have a bottle of Grandpa Ike’s Wild Turkey.”

Jake considered that.
Might work.

“I don’t want to give you anything that will cause you more harm. Can a werewolf drink alcohol?”

Absolutely. Remember that I’m not really a wolf.

“All right. Then let’s try a little painkiller.” Crouching by his head, she poured a generous amount of Wild Turkey into a bowl. “Lap it up.”

Easing to his stomach, he tasted the booze and choked.

“Maybe not.” She started to take the bowl away.

He put a paw on her arm to keep her from doing that. The stuff was strong, but he needed strong. Steeling himself against the bite of the whiskey, he drank the entire bowl. It burned all the way down his throat to his gut. But then the alcohol hit his brain, and he ceased to give a shit about . . . anything.

Rachel sat back on her heels. “Wow. I’ve never seen a drunk wolf before.”

Take a good look, little lady.

“Little lady? Jake, are you channeling some rhinestone cowboy?”

Rhinestone cowboys don’t get shot. I took a bullet. Show some respect.
But the pain of the bullet had receded with every lap of the Wild Turkey, and now it was a dull ache that he could easily ignore.

“You did take a bullet, Jake.” Her voice was soothing as she bathed his wound with warm water. A lovely voice. He hadn’t appreciated how melodious that voice was until now. Melodious. Good word. He should remember it. Perfect description of Rachel’s voice.

“Well, Jake, from the way you’re lying there as if you didn’t have a care in the world, I’m going to assume the Wild Turkey has done its work. So now I’ll do mine. But the Wild Turkey aside, this is going to pinch a bit.”

Jake remained in his don’t-give-a-shit daze until searing pain ruined it. He howled.

“I know. It hurts.” She continued to work.

Hurts? That’s like saying the Grand Canyon’s a ditch!
He howled again, louder this time.

“Hang in there, buddy.” She sounded as if she might be gritting her teeth as she said that.

He had a choice of gritting his teeth like a hero or howling like a wuss. He’d lapped up a bowl of Wild Turkey. He howled.

“Almost got it.” She swore. “There! It’s out!”

Jake howled some more, just because he could.

“I suppose now you can do your thing. Shift and make yourself better.”

He thought about that possibility, even tried to work up the energy.
Can’t.

“Why not?”

Just realized. Can’t shift while plastered.

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s a trade-off. Without the Wild Turkey, you would have suffered more. I’ll apply a compression bandage for a while. You can shift later on.”

Yeah. I’ll shift later. Don’t shave me.

“I won’t.” She chuckled.

Thanks.
He winced when she first pressed the gauze pad to his wound, but then it wasn’t so bad, especially when she began stroking his fur with her other hand.

Relieved that the bullet was out, he relaxed against the soft quilt. The booze was still working on him, thank God, so the pain was bearable. That combined with her gentle touch made him drowsy.
Maybe I’ll sleep now.

“That’s a great idea, Jake. Sleep will help you heal faster, too. It’s been a tough day.”

No kidding. Hey, Rachel, just so you know . . .
His fuzzy brain had trouble forming a coherent sentence.

“You appreciate what I did. I know you do, but Jake, I’m the one who got you into this bad situation. If you hadn’t felt compelled to shift right then because of what I’d said, you wouldn’t have been shot.”

Don’t blame yourself. My fault.

“Okay, then we share the blame, but you’re the one who took the bullet.” She caressed his ruff.

I did, didn’t I?
He couldn’t help feeling proud of that.

“You’re very brave, Jake.” She continued to stroke him.

You, too, Rachel. In fact, I’m beginning to think I . . .
he lost his train of thought, which was too bad because he sensed it was important.

“You’re what?” She leaned forward, as if that would encourage him to finish the sentence.

But he couldn’t finish it. Exhaustion and booze claimed him. He fell asleep with the delicious sensation of her hand moving over his fur.

•   •   •

Rachel sat beside Jake for a long time. Normally she would have bandaged a wound like this, but she’d promised not to shave him, and besides, she wasn’t sure what would happen if he woke up and wanted to shift. Could cause major problems. So she held the pressure bandage in place.

Eventually the bleeding stopped and she set the bandage aside, although she continued to stroke his fur. It felt so incredibly soft under her fingertips, and she doubted he would have allowed her to pet him under normal circumstances. He would bristle at the idea of being treated like a dog. But now he was injured, drunk, and fast asleep.

The last time he’d been in her bedroom, which seemed like years ago, she’d thought he was a semitame wolf. That still wasn’t a bad description of Jake—part man, part wolf, all male. In a few short hours of fabulous lovemaking, he’d ruined her for anyone else.

Nice job, Jake.
Well, it wasn’t over till it was over. She hadn’t given up on her campaign to change his rigid beliefs. But if that proved impossible, she was pretty sure she’d be losing the love of her life. Unless he could see that, though, they were both doomed to settle for second best. What a shame.

As her own weariness made her yawn, she decided to grab a pillow and blanket so she could sleep on the floor next to her patient. That way she could be aware if he moved. Moving could make the bleeding start again.

First she tidied up the area and carried everything except some extra gauze pads into the bathroom. Then she changed into a tank top and pj bottoms so she’d be more comfortable. Jake didn’t stir. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept much the night before and he hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at most.

Now that she was up, she felt hungry. Worry over Jake had stolen her appetite earlier, but now she wanted . . . a candy bar. Perfect. Maybe two candy bars. Lionel would have a fit if he knew. Not only was she harboring the wolf, but she was compounding her foolishness by snacking on sugar.

She walked around lowering all the blinds in the house while she ate the first candy bar. No sense in giving anyone, especially Lionel, a peek into what was going on in her little cabin in the middle of the afternoon. He probably wouldn’t bother her, though, because he thought she was having a hot love affair.

He’d blushed when she’d mentioned wanting to catch up on her sleep today. Then he’d asked if Jake would be by later, and she’d said he might. Sure enough, he had come by and was currently in her bedroom recovering from the bullet Lionel had pumped into him.

The poor kid had thought he was saving her life, and she couldn’t blame him for that. But she couldn’t let him see the wolf again under any circumstances. As far as Lionel would ever know, that wolf had lit out for the tundra.