AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He gingerly opened the door and searched the darkness. Yes, he thought he could get them out this way, but he’d need to hurry. If only it weren’t so dark. Even with his excellent night vision, it was going to be a case of blundering in the gloom.
Marcus grabbed his footwear and pulled on his socks and boots before hustling back to the woman. He found her as he’d left her. Damn, moving her wasn’t a great idea, but he couldn’t leave her here either. And where the hell was the old woman? He had found no sign of her—just this unconscious mystery woman.
Another tremor of the floor beneath his feet had him bursting into action. He wrapped a blanket around the woman’s head and shoulders, then scooped her up and headed for the door.
Damn. The slight shift had shrunk the gap at the front door. Marcus squeezed through, scraping his back as he attempted to maneuver the woman without hurting her. He was almost out when the doorway jerked, and the entire building slid sideways. One tree let out a protesting squeal, and the slide didn’t halt. Without hesitation, Marcus jumped. He landed awkwardly, twisting his ankle in an unseen, water-filled hole. Pain shot up his leg, but the wrenching and groaning sounds from the trees and the house had him sucking up his agony.
A jagged snap had Marcus whirling, and he watched with horror as the tree gave way. The second tree fell with a muffled crash, and the cottage slid farther down the hill, gradually gaining speed until darkness engulfed it.
Hell, if he’d hesitated even seconds longer, he and the woman would’ve gone over the edge with the house.
4
Marcustrudgeddownamuddy track, slipping, sliding, and splashing through deep puddles. The wind hurled leaves and tiny branches, and one struck him on the cheek. The sharp gouge told him the twig had drawn blood. But as uncomfortable as he was in his sodden clothes and with his throbbing ankle and cheek, contentment spread through him. He carried his mate in his arms.
Hell, he hadn’t even gotten a decent look at her. She was unconscious, but she was breathing. That she hadn’t woken worried him, but he could take her to Gavin, the local shifter doctor.
With his ankle, it took him longer to reach his vehicle. The storm had moved on, but lightning still filled the sky with enough brightness to play havoc with his vision. Rain continued to fall, and the water underfoot had risen. That concerned him too, and he hoped his truck would make it back to town.
The woman didn’t stir when he placed her in his passenger seat. As soon as he slid behind the wheel, he started his vehicle, relieved when the engine turned over easily. He put the heater on full blast and set the truck in gear. He drove slowly, carefully, gauging the road’s location from the markers on the shoulder. Confidence filled him once he reached the main road until he approached a bridge that crossed a stream. The previous tiny trickle was now a raging torrent, and if the bridge was there, he couldn’t see it.
“Damn,” he muttered.
He stared at the spot where the crossing used to be for a fraction longer before backing until he could turn his vehicle. He’d be heading for his house until they could get to town. Hopefully, the phones were still working.
He drove equally slowly toward his home, and his ankle protested the entire way. A shiver racked his body, his numerous aches and pains and the cold giving his wolf half a challenge. If something had happened to his rental, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
His headlights slashed the darkness, piercing the rain and giving him a little visibility. The woman’s scent filled each inhalation, and he wished he could see her in the light. He peeked at her before returning his focus to the slick road. He’d gained an impression of long limbs, long hair, and not much else.
It had been so dark in that cottage he had seen little of her face, but her skin and hair had been soft beneath his touch. So soft. And he didn’t have time to daydream about sex with this woman or anything else. His mission was to get her to safety and to tend her until she regained consciousness.
Marcus gripped the steering wheel tighter and concentrated on driving. The short ten-minute drive took him over half an hour, and tension still filled him when he guided his truck up his driveway. The tires spun for purchase, and he dropped a gear. His vehicle slid, almost going over the bank before he righted the direction, and his knuckles were white by the time he pulled up in front of his house.
A glance told him apart from a fallen tree, which looked as if it had totaled the garage, his home had survived the worst of the storm. He parked his truck and double-checked the handbrake. The puddles and flying debris were just as bad here, and Marcus stepped into water that was deeper than his boots were tall before he reached his door. He never locked it, and he pushed it open and used the doorstop to keep it from slamming shut.
The woman sat silently in the passenger seat, draped in the blanket and unmoving. Not a great sign. Worry filled Marcus as he awkwardly carried her inside. With the door shut, the wail of blustery wind and the patter of rain lessened. He toed off his gumboots and walked into his bedroom. After placing her on the bed, he shucked his damp socks and switched on the heat pump before turning his attention back to his guest. He couldn’t see much of her—just the top of her head. The blanket was wet and probably her clothes, too. He hesitated to strip her yet couldn’t think of an alternative. It wasn’t as if he intended to take advantage of her. All he wanted was to make her comfortable and warm before he attempted to ask Gavin for advice.
Marcus edged closer to the bed and unfurled the wet blanket. Her long hair was a strange mixture of blonde and dark, with strands of gold. She bore a decent-sized lump on her head, and her hair was red with blood around the wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, her shifter status helping her to heal even though she wasn’t conscious. He thought she’d be all right, given her breathing seemed normal.
Her clothes clung to her curves, and her skin was icy cold. Marcus hesitated. She could tell him off later. Right now, he needed to get her warm. One of his T-shirts would do. Marcus grabbed a tee first, then unbuttoned her shirt and her undergarments. Next came her skirt.
Her scent told him she was a feline. Now that he had more light, he turned her over, and his breath caught. He blinked, but his eyes were not playing tricks on him. He stared, shook himself, and decided he’d worry about her differences later. Her breathing was still even, so he knew she was alive. This… She… Hell, he had more questions now than when he’d found her.
Powerless to stop himself, he stroked the orange and black fur—to ensure it was real and his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. She moaned, and he froze, his gaze going to her face. Holy crap! How had he not noticed earlier? Her thick, multi-colored strands of hair had shifted and parted to reveal triangle ears.
Marcus shook himself and maneuvered the T-shirt over her head. Once he’d covered her body, he tugged aside the covers and placed her in his bed.
He gathered the wet clothes and the blanket and took them to his small laundry area. They smelled of her, and the smoky scent soothed the angst that had surfaced in him. One thing was for sure. He didn’t understand.
His mate…
He shook his head. Once he’d dumped the wet items in the tub, he returned to his bedroom and grabbed dry clothes for himself. That done, he retreated, closing the door behind him. He showered to wash off the mud and blood—thankfully, his wounds had mostly healed—changed into the clean, dry apparel, and placed his laundry with the woman’s.
First, he needed to contact Gavin. It was still raining, although not as heavily as earlier, and the thunderstorm no longer hovered over Middlemarch. He hit speed-dial and waited. The phone crackled, and the ringing stopped without warning. He thought he heard a voice, but before he could speak, the line went dead. Marcus tried again, and this time, it didn’t even ring.
He gave up and heated soup. Anita had given him some the previous day, and he figured if the woman roused, something warm to fill her belly couldn’t hurt. He’d feel better if she regained consciousness.
Mate, his wolf said, his growly possessiveness clear.
