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“Stop,” he growled, his arms tightening around her.
“You’re warm.” She looked back at him, his expression mesmerizing. He was fierce and angry and so handsome.
“You’re soft.” His harsh whisper rolled over her. “And helpless.”
“Good thing you’re here to protect me,” she said, her eyes growing heavy-lidded. In his arms, with the solid beat of his heart lulling her to sleep, she had no care in the world.
He chuckled. “Who’s protecting you from me?”
She forced her eyes open, staring at the man more shadow than flesh. “What are you going to do to me?”
He groaned, his eyes shutting. He pressed the hard length of his arousal against the curve of her hips. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Really?” she asked, curious. She was oddly light-headed. Not dizzy or disoriented—more euphoric. “Even after the whole breaking free, running for hours, and cutting open your shoulder? You have energy for…that? This is the strangest dream.”
He leaned over her. “I always have energy for that. You keep wriggling your ass, I’m not going to turn down your offer.”
“I’m not offering anything.” She frowned. “I’m freezing.”
He brushed the hair from her forehead, pressing his palm against her skin. His touch felt cool on her face, so she turned into it. “Shit,” the word was a growl. He shifted, the cold air slicing through her in his absence. “Drink this.” He pressed a bottle to her lips. “It’ll warm you up. Might take the edge off the pain.”
She swallowed, the alcohol burning all the way down.
“Again,” he said, pressing the bottle to her lips.
She drank deeply, and a hot, heavy warmth filled her. Her brain was so foggy and thick. But his strong arms were back, his touch warming her through and easing the aches and pains crippling her moments ago. The alcohol probably helped, too…
“Try not to move,” he rasped.
“’Kay.” Her tongue felt thick. She didn’t want to move. She was deliciously warm. “Better.” She touched his cheek, her fingers tracing his mouth. His hand grabbed her wrist, holding her hand away from him. “It’s a dream. Maybe I should offer.”
He shook his head. “You need sleep.” But she heard the rasp in his voice. Could he want her? It was her dream so the odds were in her favor.
No. Not at all. It was the alcohol.
She blinked, wishing there was more moonlight so she could see him. She drew in a deep breath and whispered, “I don’t think I’m going to survive this. And I’d really like to have sex, at least once, before I die.”
Chapter Three
Mal stared down at the woman in his arms. Running with dead weight wasn’t easy. Especially when he had to make sure he wasn’t jostling her wound. He didn’t need a medical degree to know she was getting worse. Sweat streaked her forehead and made her hoodie damp. And the scent of her blood… Infection raged. His wolf was on edge, worrying over her. Not that he was offering up any advice on how to make this situation suck less. Or that there was a damn thing they could do to help her. If Hollis had been here, he’d have her patched up and on her feet in no time. But Hollis and Finn and the rest of his pack were God knows how far away.
Thinking of Hollis reminded him of what the girl told him. Motherfucking Cyrus. The Alpha of the motherfucking Others had planted someone in Finn’s pack? How was that possible? How did Finn not know, not sense, that there was danger? He didn’t want to worry about them—they’d left his ass. They could fend for themselves. But there was a part of him—his wolf—that refused to desert them. If they were in danger, he needed to tell them.
“Ice cream,” she mumbled, her voice high and petulant. The mumbling was nothing new, but she hadn’t mentioned ice cream yet. “It’s hot.”
He sighed, holding her still, glancing at the snowflakes that had begun to fall. They took shelter under some trees, long enough to pry the collar off. She started thrashing around so he’d had no choice but to pin her down. She tried to pull away, so his grip tightened. All the tossing and turning had stressed her wound, making it ooze—announcing their presence to the whole fucking planet.
“Chase…” Her voice broke. “Where are you?”
“Hush,” he said.
Her hands gripped his shoulders. “Please don’t leave me.”
He frowned. That’s exactly what he should do. Leave her. But his wolf wouldn’t let that happen. The more worked up she got, the more protective it became. He didn’t like the effect she had on his inner beast. Rage. Aggression. Hunt. Kill. These were things he and his wolf could see eye-to-eye on. Worry. Apprehension. Fear—no way in hell. Not over some nameless chick who probably wasn’t going to make it another twenty-four hours. His chest grew heavy at the thought.
“Please,” she repeated, desperate and fragile.
“It’s fine. I—I’m here.” He ground out the words. The wolf wanted him to say something else, something calming and soothing. He pressed his lips together.
