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They all wore marks, all of them bloody, including the gray, who looked as if he'd taken the brunt of the fight. His fur was torn away in spots, angry bloodstained gouges in his skin.
But the six retreated, their ears back, their tails between their legs.
The gray was the only one left. He lifted his snout to the air and howled, the sound echoing through the near-silent woods.
He turned to her, his fangs gleaming in the darkness, dripping with the blood of the others. As he advanced toward her, Shannon realized at that moment that she should have run when she had the chance.
Now that he'd driven the others off, he was coming for her.
Chapter Twelve
Shannon held her breath as the wolf limped toward her, its beautiful fur a bloody, matted mess.
But she was certain he could still easily tear her apart. Oh, why hadn't she run when she'd had the chance? What in the world possessed her to stick around? Why had she stood there immobile as if she felt like she needed to stay?
Then again, for some strange reason, this wolf had saved her life. She knew it to be so, despite everything she knew about wild creatures. He'd have had no reason to spare her, in fact should have joined with the others in stalking her, but he hadn't. He'd approached, if she could believe her eyes--winked--then walked around her to attack the other wolves.
Maybe that's why she stayed. Maybe there was something different about this one.
The wolf stopped, no more than a foot from where she stood. He raised his head, looking at her, his eyes filled with pain, mouth open as it panted heavily.
She tensed, poised to once again take off in a run if the wolf leaped at her. She might not get far, but it was better than just standing around like a target.
But he didn't advance. Instead, he settled slowly to the ground, laid his head down and closed his eyes.
Oh, God. Was he dead? Still too afraid to get close to him, she watched and waited, mentally counting the minutes until she got to about ten. The wolf hadn't budged, his breathing ragged as he slept.
Now. Take a step backward, then another, and get the hell out of there now! Whether it was fear or some strange compassion she felt for this lethal creature, she couldn't. He was too big for her to drag him to the house. If she could even find the house. As it was she was close to passing out, the fear and her injuries from running through the woods taking their toll on her. At the moment she wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and close her eyes. Exhaustion made her weave on her feet.
But if the wolf woke, then what? Would he lunge for her? Was he just resting, assuming she'd still be there when he woke?
This was ridiculous. Run! She heard the warning in her head and took a tentative step backward, her feet crunching on a tree limb. The wolf woke, lifted his head up, and snarled at her. She froze to the spot, fearful of moving so much as an inch. She reached behind her and found the trunk of a tree, grabbing onto it for support, afraid she'd fall forward right on top of the wolf.
As it was, even if she ran she wasn't sure she could get very far. The wolf, satisfied that she wasn't moving, laid his head back down and closed his eyes.
Too tired to contemplate escape, she gave up the fight, convinced on some level that this creature would not harm her. She scooted down against the trunk of the tree, mindful of the wolf's eyes opening and watching her warily, but he emitted no growl, even when she sat and straightened her legs, putting them precariously close to his jaws.
Sitting was heaven, her battered, stressed body and mind needing desperately to shut down for at least a few minutes. That's what she'd do. She'd rest, just for a few minutes, until she could gain some strength. Then she'd try again to get up and make her escape.
The wolf closed its eyes again. Unable to fight it any longer, Shannon rested her head against the tree and let the darkness overtake her.
*
Max woke to screaming pain rifling through his body. Every fucking thing hurt, from his head to his paws. But he was still strong enough to make it back to the house.
Shannon slept against the tree, her head tilted sideways, her face streaked with dirt, scratches marring the exposed skin of her arms and legs.
He laid there for a few minutes, admiring his woman. She'd been stupid to head into the woods to escape the wolves. If she'd stayed on the road she might have reached the store before they attacked.
Then again, maybe not. Savage bastards. It was going to take some effort to set them straight, but he'd mastered six of them at once. They knew now that there was a new alpha on the scene. One not to be fucked with. And he'd made sure to hurt them bad enough that they clearly understood to never get anywhere near his mate again.
He should have killed them. God, he'd wanted to after seeing the look of fear on Shannon's face, the scratches marring her skin, blood streaming down her arms.
Yeah, she'd been stupid all right, but damned brave, too. That's what made her perfect for him. One of the things he admired about her was her staunch refusal to give up in a fight. It made their battles more difficult, but then again when had he ever backed away from a good, rousing fight?
He knew it would always be that way between them. Theirs was a passionate bond, and passion sometimes meant fighting. He wouldn't want her any other way. If she'd been docile and agreeable, he'd never have chosen her for his mate.
To think he might have lost her tonight. His heart squeezed at the thought of never seeing her smile, never feeling her touch, never having her around to argue with.
Oh hell. He loved her!
His entire life he'd wondered what all the fuss was about when it came to love. His mother had smiled and told him when it happened, he'd know.
He sure as hell knew now. And dammit, it hurt. The need to protect her became more important now than ever before.
She could be carrying his child now for all he knew. And he'd let her slip away from him and almost get herself killed.
He'd teach her to protect herself better in the future. He'd train her in the ways of an alpha female. Maybe a trip to Boston to meet his family. His mother would set her straight, make sure she knew what being an alpha female meant. How she should demand the respect due her.
But first, he needed to get her back to the house. He shifted into human form despite the pain he knew he'd be in when his injures became human injuries. But they would heal soon enough.
Scooping an unconscious Shannon into his arms, he made the trek toward the house. It was only about a mile or so away. Not easy on bare human feet, but he'd manage.
Dawn would break soon, the soft gray light already filtering through the clouds that had hung low and black over the sky most of the night.
God, his body hurt. At least the bleeding had stopped, but the open gashes hurt like hell. Some of the bites had gone clear through to the bone, and his skin hung in shreds down his upper arms, shoulders and thighs.
Shannon, thankfully, only had minor wounds. Hers wouldn't heal like his, though. He'd have to treat them. Fortunately, she bore no marks from the other wolves. He would have had to kill any of them who touched her.
Finally, he reached the house and limped up the porch stairs, struggling to balance Shannon in his arms and open the back door.
After taking her upstairs and depositing her gently on his bed, he removed the remainder of her shredded clothing and inspected her body, noting that she at least had some color to her face. She wasn't pale, none of the scratches had gone too deep. She was bruised in spots, but none of her bones were broken.
He got out the first aid kit and cleaned her up, bandaging the wounds that needed it and washing her up with a soft cloth. He shuddered watching her nipples bead against the moist washcloth, his cock hardening instantly as he scented her musky perfume.
God. Beat up and bloody, barely able to move his body and he could still get a raging hard-on just looking at her.
His heart swelled with such unfamiliar emotions he could barely handle them. He pulled the s
heet over her still-slumbering form and went into the bathroom, shaking his head at his reflection in the mirror.
Good thing Shannon was still unconscious. She'd be mortified if she could see him now. A human male with these kinds of injuries would be dead. Teeth marks had dug deeply into his shoulder, down both his arms, the wolves' claws having ripped away the skin on his back.
A horror flick couldn't do a better job of showcasing a victim of a wolf attack. He chuckled at that and stepped into the hot shower, wincing as the spray hit his open wounds.
Soon, they'd be gone. Restorative processes worked quickly on werewolves. It was just a matter of time, patience and gritting his teeth a lot. Then he'd be good as new.
Hopefully before Shannon woke.
*
The sound of running water stirred Shannon from her slumber. She burrowed deeper against the sheets of the warm bed.
Bed?
She sat up abruptly, realizing it was daylight and she was back in Max's bedroom.
But how? Had he found her out in the woods? And what about the wolf? Obviously she wasn't dead, so the wolf hadn't killed her. Nor had he hurt Max, who had to have been the one to rescue her.
She looked down at the bandages on her legs and arms, realizing that Max must have cleaned her up and tended to her wounds. Her heart swelled with the love she couldn't deny.
Maybe he was a hard-headed, dominating, overbearing dickhead at times, but she loved him. That in and of itself went a long way to making her think that it was possible they could work things out.
Slipping out of the bed, she stepped toward the bathroom. She heard the water turn off, meaning Max had finished his shower. Good. She desperately wanted to at least wash her hair. Maybe some plastic wrap around her bandages would do the trick. She was sore, still felt dirty from traipsing through the mud last night, and would love nothing more than to wash the grit from her body.
After that, she and Max could talk, see if they could come to some sort of agreement on how things were going to work between them.
Surely they could--
She gasped when she spotted Max standing naked outside the shower, a towel slung low over his hips. His back was turned to her and she put her hand over her mouth to stifle the scream she wanted to let out.
His body was destroyed. Angry, open wounds ravaged his body. Gashes so deep that bone was visible. Skin shredded so badly that he'd need grafting.
And it was everywhere. His torso, back and arms. How was he even standing? He needed to be in a hospital. She'd never seen wounds like that before on a man who was still alive, let along conscious.
