Page 15 of Broken

Chapter 7

Somewhere in the darkest hours of the night, Ireland Changed back to human in her sleep. She lay on her side in the curve of Cole’s arm, her naked body warm and soft next to his, her breasts pressing against the bare skin of his chest and her leg tucked between his.

Her scent surrounded him like a caress, and despite trying really hard not to, he felt a stirring in his groin.

Think about something else. Her wound. Was her wound okay?

He ran his hand lightly over her rib cage, trying not to wake her. The wound was still bandaged, but underneath the gauze the gash felt smaller, like it was healing over, and the sick burned smell of the toxin was gone. So was her fever.

The ointment had worked. Cole found himself letting out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

She stirred slightly and the bandage caught against his hand, pulling some of the tape away. Ireland woke immediately.

“Hey,” he said, moving a little away from her. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” She sat up and twisted her body experimentally. “Way better, actually.” She paused, looking down at him. “Why are we in bed together?”

“Ah,” he said. This was awkward. “You had a high fever. You were thrashing around, and being with me seemed to calm you.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Everything’s all weird and jumbled in my mind.” Another pause. “Why am I naked?” She didn’t seem upset, just puzzled.

Cole wrenched his gaze away from her breasts, right there in front of him. “You don’t remember?”

She shook her head. He could see her hair gleaming faintly in the light from his laptop screen.

“You had some kind of toxic reaction to the magic in that lasso that cut you. And you went wolf when I tried to treat it.”

She went so still that he thought she’d stopped breathing. “I did what?”

“You Changed. Into your wolf.”

Ireland felt like her entire world had stopped. She’d turned into a wolf? No. No no no no…

Cole was still talking, like any of this made sense. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a shifter?”

“I’m not.” She felt like she was going to hyperventilate. This couldn’t be happening. “I’m not a shifter. I’m Fae.”

“Fae?” he said in surprise. “You mean, a fairy? Like Tinkerbell?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”

He ignored the sarcasm. “So you’re Fae and shifter? I’ve never heard of that.”

“I’m not a shifter,” she insisted. “I don’t shift. It’s impossible.”

She knew it was; she had proof. She held up her left wrist, the bracelet still clasped around it. “This won’t let me.”

“But you did shift. So you must have shifter blood.” Cole gazed at her. The light was too dim to see the color of his eyes, but she remembered it. Slate-gray. Sometimes cold, sometimes warm. She wished she could tell what he was thinking, but his face was impossible to read.

It was like all his thoughts were locked up inside him, and he was afraid to let any of them out. Or just didn’t want anyone close to him.

Suddenly she found herself wanting to know what was really going on inside his head. Inside his heart, where his real self lived.

She said, “My father was a shifter. But that doesn’t make me one.”

He gave a tiny short, which for him was probably equivalent to a full-on eye roll and ‘are-you-an-idiot’ look. He said, “You are what you are. And if you can manifest your wolf, you’re a shifter.” He paused. “Whether you like it or not.”

That took her aback. She’d never been accepted by the Fae because of her shifter blood. Always on the outside, never belonging. Not only that, but someone who had to be put under guard, so she wouldn’t be a menace to their society.