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I watch as blood fills the line, pumping from the devil into my brother. Part of me expects the shit coming out of him to be black. Another part wonders if his demonic blood is poisonous.
What if he’s lying about the matching blood types?
Too late now.
All we can do is wait.
50
Wolfson
—
As I watch Frankie fight to save Kody’s life, a wild beast of desire and jealousy fucks my heart, breeding a love that can either save me or destroy me.
She doesn’t speak as she dashes around the table, monitoring his vitals. Her focus on the task is uncanny, her calmness contagious.
None of us move a muscle as we track her like hungry wolves, hanging on her soft inhales and stern expressions. When she breathes, we breathe, and a strange sort of stillness settles through the room.
Christ, she’s radiant. With blood painting her face and her green eyes glowing with savage determination, she’s never been more stunning.
Kody couldn’t be in better hands. I know he’ll come out of this. Because she’s here. She would never let him die.
“Should I sit?” Denver sways, looking pale and unsteady.
“No,” she says coldly. “Keep that arm above him.”
Is she taking more blood than he can give? How will she know when it’s enough?
Doesn’t matter. I trust her.
Though I’m not sure Denver shares my sentiment.
He narrows his eyes but remains standing. “The wolf was alone?”
“Yes.” She lifts Kody’s eyelids, checking his pupils.
“It was big,” Leo says, all angry and aggressive, as if to draw Denver’s attention away from Frankie. “Likely an alpha, exiled from its pack. Three feet tall. Seven feet long. With a belly full of meat, I bet it was 175 pounds.”
Denver whistles low. “That’s why the caribou have been scarce. It’s been picking off our food supply.”
“I’ve seen it lurking around the cabin since I arrived.” She moves to Kody’s chest, listening to his heart. “All this time, I thought I was imagining it.”
She mentioned it many times, and I blew her off.
I officially suck.
“How did Kody kill it?” I stare at Kody’s hand—the one Denver stabbed instead of my own. “Can he cock the crossbow now?”
“I killed it.” She pauses beside Denver, grips the tubing, and rips it from his arm with a ruthlessness she didn’t learn in school.
I love her for that.
So does Denver.
“Violent thing.” Grinning, he drops into a chair and presses a finger to his bleeding vein. “How did you kill it?”
“Luck.” She removes Kody’s needle with care and nudges Leo aside before unpacking the injury on Kody’s thigh.
“You can’t kill a feral wolf with luck, little girl.” Denver squints at her.
“I’ll remember that when I kill you.” Quiet words as she irrigates the wound with saline.
Quiet but deadly. She means what she said, and we all know it.
“I look forward to it.” Denver’s smile widens.
The threat fills me with equal parts dread and hope. This woman took down a fucking wolf, and now she’s operating on my brother with wicked concentration, her face smeared with blood and her hands steady, while the man who kidnapped and raped her looks on, taunting her.
Badass doesn’t even begin to describe her.
She’s a queen.
My queen.
For the next several hours, she cleans, stitches, and bandages torn tissue and ligaments from one end of Kody’s body to the other. No pausing for breaks. No wavering. No hesitating. As if she sews bodies back together in her sleep.
She doesn’t make promises about his recovery, stating she doesn’t have the equipment to monitor his organs, blood pressure, CBC, and other medical verbiage that goes over my head.
As she ties off the final suture, Leo and I work Kody’s heavy legs into a pair of sweatpants, covering his pieced-together flesh. He looks like Frankenstein’s monster.
But he’s stable.
He’s alive.
“No hypothermia.” She sets the thermometer aside, nibbling her lip. “Body temp is normal. For now.”
After I got the fire going, the kitchen turned into a furnace. We’re all sweating.
“Should we move him?” I wipe my clammy neck. “Make him more comfortable?”
“I need to monitor his organs.” She drums her fingers on the table, thinking. “His kidney function…” Her head snaps up. “Did I see a urinary catheter among the supplies?”
“We have one.” Denver meets my eyes and flicks a hand. “In the cellar.”
I want to tell the bastard to collect it himself. He knows our medical inventory better than anyone.
Except the birth control pills. He doesn’t know about those.
I head downstairs to collect the catheter and return to find Frankie bent over a notepad, writing something down.
“Is this what you need?” I hold out the sealed package.
“Yes. Thank you.” She sets it aside and tears off the paper, passing it to Denver. “I need these supplies as soon as possible. You should leave tomorrow.”
Denver accepts the list, briefly glancing at it, and tucks it in his pocket.
“I’ll leave in the morning.” He stands. “If you keep me company tonight.”
