Werewolf in Alaska: A Wild About You Novel (4 page)

The animal stiffened.

For one heart-stopping moment, she wondered if it would turn on her. That made no sense considering its former protective behavior, but the moment she closed her fingers around that silky black fur, she knew this was no docile house pet.

The wolf controlled its own destiny, although that ability had been compromised by lethal claws that had dug deep. When the wolf staggered, Rachel exerted gentle pressure on its ruff and managed to change its direction.

“This way,” she said softly. “Come with me. I’ll tend your wounds, and when you’re better, I’ll let you go. I’m not going to hold you prisoner. That would be a poor payback for what you did. But I won’t let you die from these wounds, either.”

She kept her grip on the wolf’s ruff all the way back to her cabin. Twice the creature faltered, which told her just how injured it was. And this
was
her wolf. She’d carved the image so often that she knew it by heart. Here was an animal built for grace and coordination, but it was not moving gracefully now.

“You gave me a career,” she murmured as they navigated the three steps to her back deck. “And you saved my life. I would be an ungrateful person if I didn’t take care of you now.” Crossing the deck, she opened the wrought-iron screen door.

She’d left the reinforced storm door open to catch a breeze off the lake. She hadn’t thought of a bear coming in, but she should have. The screen door wouldn’t stop a bear. She’d allowed herself to get complacent and careless, and the wolf had paid the price.

Once inside, she led him straight into her bedroom. “Stay right there. I’ll make you a spot to lie down.” Pulling the quilt from her bed, she folded it into a large square and placed it in a corner of the room. The wolf might get blood on it, but she didn’t care.

After creating a bed for the wolf, she guided the animal over to rest. Its resistance to her commands was fading as its stamina ebbed. Sinking down to the makeshift bed and lying on the side that hadn’t been injured, it closed its green eyes, which had become dull and lifeless.

“I’ll make you well.” Crouching down, she caressed the large head and once more was amazed at the silky texture of its fur. Then again, she’d never touched a wolf before. Maybe they all felt like that.

Leaving the bedroom, she made sure the doors and windows were closed and locked to keep the wolf in and the bears out. Then she collected the supplies she’d need—towels, washcloths, a basin of warm water, antiseptic, and gauze. She also grabbed a prescription liquid antibiotic. It was the first time in a long while she was grateful for her internship with the vet.

Polecat was so far from the nearest medical facility that she’d talked a doctor friend into letting her keep an antibiotic on hand for times when she needed it and the roads were closed. If she could get some of that down the wolf’s throat, so much the better.

When she returned, the wolf lay motionless except for its heaving flanks. Correction,
his
flanks. She confirmed what she’d assumed was true, that she was dealing with a male wolf.

She used towels and gentle pressure on his wounds until the bleeding stopped. Now to see if she could get some of the antibiotic into him. Filling the eyedropper with the liquid, she sank to her knees and wondered if this was the craziest thing she’d ever done. If she tried to give him the medicine and he mangled her hand, he could ruin her career.

But without this wolf, her career wouldn’t have started in the first place. She leaned down and touched his muzzle. “I want you to swallow this. It will fight any potential infection from those claws.”

The green eyes opened. She had the oddest sensation that he understood exactly what she’d said. Silly, of course. He was a wolf, and he might understand intonations, but he wouldn’t know the meaning of the words.

“I’m going to ease open your jaws and squirt this in. I want you to swallow it.” She talked to him as if he had a full command of the language, which helped her deal with the surreal nature of this moment. A wild wolf was about to spend the night in her bedroom.

Whether the wolf understood her intentions or not, he didn’t object when she pried his powerful jaws apart and squirted the antibiotic into the back of his throat. He gagged a little, but he didn’t bite or snarl. He just swallowed as instructed, like a good dog.

Rachel sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. “Okay. That was a start. Now I need to clean your wounds, and that’s going to hurt. But if I don’t, you’ll run the risk of infection. The antibiotic will help, but I want to cover all the bases.”

The wolf sighed and closed his eyes. Once again, she suspected he had lived in someone’s home because he was so comfortable inside a house. Maybe he was a wolf hybrid. In any case, she’d be careful about broadcasting his presence until she had a better idea of where he might belong.

Lionel was scheduled to come over in the morning, and he might know something about this wolf. If not, he’d keep quiet if she asked him to. He might refuse to buy her chocolate candy, but he wouldn’t betray a confidence.

If Lionel knew nothing, she might ask Ted if he’d heard of anyone domesticating a wolf or keeping a hybrid. No, maybe not Ted. He could get gabby. She’d be careful what she said to him. In any case, this wasn’t the time to nail fliers to telephone poles or post an update on Facebook.

No telling what sort of wildlife regulations she was flaunting by having this creature in her house. But he’d protected her and she’d return the favor. If it weren’t for all her traveling, she would consider keeping him if he seemed willing to stay. It might mean breaking a law, perhaps, but having a constant source of inspiration for her carving would be very cool.

Impractical, though. She was away so much that keeping an animal would be unfair. Besides, this one was far too magnificent to be at some human’s beck and call. He might have been tame once, but if he’d returned to the wild, she wouldn’t dream of taking away his freedom. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t let her.

If Jake could have dragged himself away from Rachel after the fight with the bear, he would have done it. But tangling with the grizzly had taken its toll, and he’d been dazed by the encounter and in shock from loss of blood. Shifting into human form would have helped because a shift always aided the healing process. It was one of the benefits of being Were.

But he hadn’t been able to retreat into the forest to accomplish that before Rachel had grabbed a fistful of fur. In his weakened state, he’d allowed her to guide him into her house. Now, in the confines of her bedroom, he
really
couldn’t shift.

If he were with anyone besides Rachel, he’d be freaked-out right now. He’d never interacted with a human while in wolf form. But he thought that he could trust Rachel. Her empathy for wild creatures, especially wolves, should keep her from putting him at risk.

She wasn’t likely to spread the word about him, because she didn’t want to attract attention any more than he did. At the most she might tell her assistant, Lionel, and maybe Ted. Lionel wouldn’t blab and neither would Ted, unless he drank beer with his poker buddies.

Jake could play the role of faithful wolf-dog for a day or so, until he felt strong enough to slip out the door when Rachel wasn’t looking. In the meantime, he’d been handed an excuse to be near her, and maybe he should relax and enjoy it. He’d never have trusted himself to spend hours alone with her in human form, but as a wolf, he’d be fine.

As she dipped a washcloth in the basin, he realized he’d never experienced first aid, human-style. Whenever he’d hurt himself as a wolf or human, which hadn’t been often, he’d simply shifted to accelerate the healing process and let it go at that. Two shifts helped twice as much.

This time he’d find out how nonshifters dealt with injuries. When she touched him with the wet cloth, he nearly went through the ceiling. The stab of pain made him jerk violently, and he began to pant.

“Sorry.” She spoke to him in a low, crooning voice. “I’m sure that hurts.”

No shit.
He began to question whether hanging out with Rachel was worth it after all. If he’d made a greater effort to get away from her, he could be deep in the forest healing his wounds by himself. He wouldn’t need her primitive warm-water-and-washcloth routine.

Apparently he’d overestimated the joy of being nursed by her and underestimated the amount of suffering he’d have to endure. She was obviously trying to be gentle, but damn, it
hurt
. He hadn’t appreciated how good he had it being able to shift his way through an injury. How did humans stand the pain? Narcotics, probably, and he wasn’t getting any of those.

Pride kept him from groaning every time she laid that warm cloth over his wounds, but he sure as hell felt like bellowing. He considered his options. Leaving now might be impossible, especially if she’d closed her front and back doors.

Besides, she wouldn’t let him leave if she could help it. She firmly believed he’d get sick and die without her medical intervention. Instead she was putting him through unnecessary torture, but her heart was in the right place. He was stuck here, so he might as well lie quietly and count his blessings.

And he did have blessings. As she leaned over him, he was surrounded by the sweet smell of almonds. After all the nights he’d traveled around the lake just so he could catch a whiff of her favorite scent, he was in almond heaven, so he’d better enjoy it while he could.

He’d often dreamed of having her touch him, too, and although her touch brought nothing but pain at the moment, that wasn’t her fault. She was only trying to help. In fact, without the aid of shifting, his wounds actually might become infected if she didn’t clean them.

She had courage to even attempt such a thing on an animal she didn’t know. He’d always thought she had guts and spirit, and she’d demonstrated that strength of character tonight. He’d never forget the sight of her bracing for the attack armed with a cardboard tube of sketches.

Good thing he’d been there to stop the mother bear from tearing Rachel to pieces. He’d been lucky to get a good hold on the bear’s throat. As she’d swung him around, he’d telepathically threatened to puncture her jugular if she didn’t stop.

The bear had finally listened to reason and the fight had ended. He’d hoped that Rachel would run inside when the fight started, which would have allowed him to disappear into the woods after it was over. Instead she’d stayed, from either bravery or fear—he couldn’t be sure.

But most people faced with a wounded semiwild wolf would have punched 911 on their cell phone at the end of the fight. Not Rachel. She’d chosen to tend him on her own, as if she understood the need for secrecy. She was truly remarkable, and although every swipe of the damp cloth brought agony, he was still honored to be under her care.

It crossed his mind that if any human could be trusted with the knowledge that werewolves existed, Rachel probably could. For the first time he understood how a Were might talk himself or herself into mating with a human, especially if that human had the sterling qualities Rachel displayed.

That still made human-Were mating a reckless decision. No matter how trustworthy the human might be, he or she could unintentionally leak information to other humans. Security would become impossible to maintain.

He discovered that thinking about the problems of mixed mating helped him forget the pain in his side, so he decided to focus on the topic as a distraction. Another major issue bothering him was the question of offspring. The ability to shift might be passed on to the next generation or it might not. Both of the Wallace brothers from New York faced this uncertainty about any children they might have, because they’d taken human mates.

As a result, they wouldn’t know until their offspring reached puberty whether they’d have the ability to shift or not. The ability to shift, along with an identifiable Were scent, didn’t show up for at least eleven or twelve years. Siblings could end up a mixed bag, with some human and some Were. How could that be a good thing?

He imagined having a discussion with Rachel about it. That wouldn’t ever happen, but if he could debate the issue with her, she’d probably agree with him. Weres and humans weren’t suited as mates. They were from different species and they—

“I should really shave off some of this fur,” she murmured, partly to him but mostly to herself.

He raised his head and glared at her. No way was he submitting to
that.

“You keep acting as if you understand every word I’m saying.” She met his glare with a soft smile. “You don’t, of course, but it’s uncanny how you seem to.”

He’d have to watch his reactions so she wouldn’t edge any closer to the truth. But he wouldn’t let her take a razor to his coat, and that was final. One shift to human form and another back to wolf form, and he’d be on the road to recovery. If she started hacking up his coat while he was in wolf form, it wouldn’t grow out for weeks.

“I’m sure you don’t want me to shave you, but it would make dressing your wounds about five hundred percent easier. I’m going to try it and see what happens.”

The hell she was. After she walked away, he staggered to his feet and headed unsteadily toward the bedroom door. He’d leap through a glass window if he had to. His fur had never been shaved, and he wasn’t about to let her do it now.

“Hey.” She blocked his path, scissors in one hand and a girlie-looking pink razor in the other. “Where do you think you’re going?”

With one glance at the razor, he shouldered his way past her. Bad enough that she planned to shave him, but with a
pink
razor? Hell, no. Adrenaline gave him strength, and he nearly knocked her down. As he’d suspected, both the front door and the back one leading out to the deck were closed tight.

So were the windows. The bear had scared her into battening down the hatches. He didn’t blame her, and he’d hate to repay her kindness by breaking through her window.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could work up enough momentum to do that. The windows on the lake side of the cabin looked fairly new, which could mean they were double paned. Besides, if he succeeded in breaking through, he’d leave her vulnerable if the bear returned.

He’d told the mother grizzly to keep away, but her cub was young and unruly. He could scamper back. Curiosity might cause him to climb through a shattered window, and his mother would be obliged to follow. Jake cursed a bad situation that left him no good options.

“What’s gotten into you?” Rachel approached him, still holding the scissors and pink razor. “You seemed so docile until I mentioned shaving your fur.” She frowned. “Surely that isn’t the reason?”

Growling, he backed away from her.

“I can’t believe it’s that.” She tucked both hands behind her back. “You can’t possibly know what I plan to do with these.”

Yes, I do, toots.
He growled again, louder this time. He would never hurt her, but if she thought she could trick him into getting shaved, she had another think coming. He’d find a way to escape that fate, one way or another.

“All right, I’ll give up on it for now. Come on back to your bed and lie down. You shouldn’t be walking around. You’re shaking like a leaf and you’re bleeding again.”

He
was
shaking, and he hated that. He’d lost a lot of blood, and without the ability to shift, he was pathetically weak.

“Go on. Get back in there and lie down before you fall down.”

He saw the wisdom in that suggestion. If he collapsed in the middle of her living room, he might not have the strength to get up again, let alone stop her from shaving him. The folded quilt she’d fixed for him was far more comfortable than this wide-plank wood flooring. He made his way back to the bedroom.

“The thing is, I want to put some salve on your wounds, and it will make a mess of your fur, which is incredibly thick. If I could just trim around the gashes, the process would be way easier. Then I could bandage you better, too.”

She wasn’t going to let the idea go. He imagined himself getting shaved and then heading to San Francisco in three days. Giselle had scheduled a late-night run with some of WARM’s supporters in the hills outside the city, and if Rachel had her way, he’d be the mangiest looking animal on that run.

Besides, some Were was bound to ask about it, and what was he supposed to say? That he’d allowed a human female to shave off his fur, like Delilah snipping on Sampson? This time in Rachel’s cabin had to remain their little secret, and that meant keeping all his fur intact. As much as he longed to curl up on the fluffy quilt, he followed his instincts and crawled under her king-sized bed.

He was too big to be doing that, but by flattening himself to the floor, he managed to wiggle his way to the very middle. Every movement hurt like crazy, but at least he’d be safe under there.

“Oh, for pity’s sake. Come out of there. How am I supposed to put salve on you when you’re under the bed?”

He figured he could do without the salve. She’d given him a dose of the antibiotic and cleaned his wounds. That should be good enough. It would be more than enough if only he could shift, but he didn’t dare try, even hidden under the bed after she was asleep.

The space was cramped, and assuming she slept in that bed tonight, she might feel him bumping around underneath her during a shift. Just his luck she’d hang her head over the edge and spy a naked man where a wolf used to be. He’d wait out the night and escape in the morning.

She didn’t appear ready to give up so easily, however. Dropping to her hands and knees, she peered under the bed. “I see you under there, wolf.”

He could see her, too, and she looked adorably pissed at him. Too bad. At this moment their goals weren’t aligned and she’d have to get over it.

“I wish I knew what has freaked you out. I still can’t believe it was the scissors and razor.”

He stared back at her and sent her a telepathic message.
It was mostly the very
pink
razor.
He didn’t expect her to get the message. Humans couldn’t communicate with Weres in wolf form. But he felt better after sending it, even if she couldn’t hear him.

She frowned as if trying to make sense of something. He wondered if her empathy allowed her to pick up part of the transmission, even if she couldn’t understand all of it. She was the most intuitive human he’d ever met, so she might hear a muddled version of his telepathic thoughts.

Testing her innate ability would be fascinating. But he’d have to reveal himself as a werewolf to do that, and he had no intention of betraying himself or his kind. He might believe she wouldn’t sound the alarm, but could he be absolutely sure?

His heart answered
yes
, but his logical brain insisted that she was human, and humans represented too great a risk to security. She could never be allowed to know who he was.

As that truth fully penetrated, he was filled with sadness. How cruel that he could be so close to her and yet so far. He chafed at the barriers, even while knowing they had to stay firmly in place. His belief system had never seemed like a straitjacket before, but it did tonight.

“All right, wolf, I surrender.”

If only she knew how often he’d fantasized having her saying that in a different context.

“I get the feeling that once you dig in your heels, there’s no budging you, so I’m going to leave you alone and get ready for bed. And I’ll call Otis. I’m sure he’s frantic.” Rising to her feet, she sat on the bed and the mattress shifted above him.

Jake wondered how she’d handle the phone call. If he was right about her, she wouldn’t mention that she’d been saved by a big black wolf. He wanted to be right about her.

“Hey, Otis. Sorry about that, but I couldn’t talk until I’d made it safely inside.” One of her running shoes dropped to the floor. Then she tossed a sock on top of it. “Yeah, I’m fine.” The other shoe landed with a soft plop. “The bear decided to leave. Guess it changed its mind about eating me.”

Jake exhaled in relief. He
had
been right. She wasn’t going to tell the whole story, at least not to her client.