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I leveled a disbelieving gaze at him through my eyelashes. “The mortal wound that was ‘no big deal’ just a little while ago?”
“I could lose consciousness or develop an infection, maybe even get shot again without someone watching my back. You don’t want that on your conscience, do you?” Caleb’s beatific smile was too well rehearsed to be genuine.
I pursed my lips, considering the pros and cons of this insane situation. Maybe I was being unfair to Caleb. Other than their astronomical caloric intake and their propensity for public nudity, werewolves were just regular people. They were nice, for the most part, with the exception of the psychotic, power-hungry assholes who occasionally staged coups to take over neighboring packs.
Happened more often than you might think.
Caleb didn’t strike me as a psychotic asshole. So far, he hadn’t lied to me. He hadn’t hurt me, intentionally. And even when he’d invaded my personal space, I hadn’t panicked or felt threatened, and that was saying something. I had the distinct impression that if Caleb told me he would keep me safe, I would be safe. And safety was tempting, too tempting, as I considered how long it would take me to come up with a plan to get to Anchorage with no money and no car.
“OK. But if we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to stop that,” I told him.
“What?”
“That!” I said, shrugging off his hands, which had been absently running up and down my arms. “The touching and the sniffing and the . . . nuzzling. That stops, right now.”
“But what if you want me to nuzzle you?” he asked, his voice returning to that gruff, husky tenor from the night before. And I felt my knees sag a little bit.
Damn it. “I won’t.”
He stepped a little closer. I pressed back against the door. “What if you ask me to?”
“If I say the words, ‘Caleb, please nuzzle me,’ you can do your worst.”
“All right, then.” He grinned at me again in a way that can only be described as “happy puppy” and loped away toward the bathroom. I wandered to the bed and dropped to it, dazed.>Now suddenly wide-awake, I stared into the darkness of the motel room and rubbed at my neck. And she was never heard from again.
I lay there at dawn, blinking into the dark, until the sun rose. After climbing out of bed, I got my bag together and put on my last clean shirt. The mark he’d made on my neck just looked like a bad hickey, the impression of his teeth barely visible. In the light of day, I could not explain what the hell he’d done. Had he meant to hurt me? Was it some weird flashback to an old girlfriend?
I didn’t know what it meant. It was probably significant in some way, but I didn’t know how. That was what bothered me. Werewolves were born, not turned, so I didn’t have to worry about going all furry the next time I got pissed off at the post office. Side note: The fullness of the moon wasn’t a factor for werewolves. After their initial postpuberty transition, they could phase whenever they felt like it. Or when they got angry. Or happy. Or bored. Or when they were asleep and had a particularly wolfy dream.
I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes. I was not as familiar with werewolf sexual practices as one might think. It was natural that I overheard ladies-locker-room talk from some of the females, rumors about size and stamina and other subjects that gave the wolf-aunties reason to laugh at my red cheeks. But as pack leader and the alpha female, Maggie was adamant that there were some things I didn’t need to know. And considering what her cousin Samson did let slip, that was probably best for the sake of my emotional health.
I knew that a claiming bite was part of the delicate werewolf mating protocol. But we hadn’t been naked, much less had sex, and he hadn’t managed to break the skin. So surely my wicked hickey didn’t count. Right?
I really didn’t want to wait around for this guy to wake up so I could ask whether he’d intentionally bit me and what that meant. But there I sat, at the edge of the bed, watching him, unsure of what else to do. Should I ask him if I could ride with him to the next thing resembling civilization? Did I want to stay with him? I mean, he’d almost bitten me. And he had people shooting at him, which didn’t say much for him in terms of character. If I were smart, I would creep quietly out of the room and be on my way.
But I just couldn’t. Before I left, I needed to make sure he was going to be OK. I felt responsible for him. Somehow, I’d fallen into pack thinking, without the actual werewolf genes or the cool superpowers. I had gotten the short end of the T-bone on this deal.
And on top of everything else, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. Between the cold, my low BMI, and whatever fresh hell the road was going to throw at me that day, I needed calories desperately. I considered the turkey jerky, which was the least weird, compared to the alligator, ostrich, and venison. But I didn’t think my roommate would appreciate waking up to find me rifling through his bag, stealing his preserved meat. I considered driving closer to town to see if I could find a diner or something. But he definitely wouldn’t appreciate waking up to find that his truck was missing, either. I was still contemplating grand theft auto versus exotic jerky when his eyes fluttered open, slowly taking in the room. With a jerk, he rolled off the bed to his feet. He seemed to be searching the room. And when his eyes settled on me, the searching stopped.
He stared at me, as if trying to jog his memory. His nostrils flared, and he seemed to recognize something. His eyes narrowed.
Damn it.
“Hi. I was there last night when you were, um . . . well, I got you here and cleaned you up.” I hitched my bag over my shoulder and made for the door. “Room’s paid up till eleven. Good luck.”
He was at the door before I could blink. “Ack!” I cried, hating the way I cringed against the door, arms curved protectively over my head. With his head cocked to the side, he curled his fingers around my wrists and pulled them down. I nearly yanked them back, but his hands were gentle. He ran the tip of his nose along my hairline.
“L-look, you can check your bag, I didn’t take anything,” I stammered.
He moved closer, inhaling deeply while his fingers traced over the mark on my neck. And there was that weird purring noise again.
Right, pretend ignorance of werewolves and their near-bite-y tendencies. Avoid explanations of why you know about the existence of werewolves. Those conversations could only lead to bad places.
“If this is about the shooting . . . I won’t tell anybody. I don’t even know who would believe me.”
He nuzzled his cheek against my temple. “Mine. You stay with me.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”
