Mark of the Wolf (4 page)

The thought made his cock twitch. He gritted
his teeth – or rather, fangs. Soon he would have to tell her the
truth, because living without his mate was impossible. And what if
she found another boyfriend, some kid to hold hands with? She was
human, after all. Unusual. He might be certain of their connection,
but he wondered if she could even feel it. She could always date
someone else, some high schooler who'd stick his tongue in her
throat and rub his dick over her firm, high breasts....

It made him want to growl. Somehow, he would
have to mark her, claim her as his.

He just had to figure out how.

* * * *

Maddy was snooping through his bathroom.

Deodorant, tissue boxes, band-aids, doggy shampoo (did he
own a dog?), hair brush, tooth brush, tooth paste — there
had
to be something
interesting in here! She rummaged through the cupboard under the
sink and then behind the bathroom mirror, and all she found were
normal everyday things. But something about him was so un-normal,
so beyond average, that she kept expecting to stumble across
something extraordinary, like buried treasure. How could he really
just be a regular guy, working at some car garage and living in a
rundown two-bedroom house? How had he found her in the forest all
of those times?

She didn’t want to tell herself the truth.
What she was really looking for were clues to the man he was. Could
she trust him? Was he safe? He had been her obsession all through
high school, the only thing she looked forward to, the only comfort
on those dark nights when she ran blindly through the forest.
Sometimes she had left the house, just hoping he would find her –
and he usually did, except for the last few years, since she was a
Sophomore. She had run away less, and he hadn't appeared at all.
She had thought he was avoiding her, or that perhaps he had found
something else to do at night, something other than hiking around
the mountain.

So who the hell was he? She was naked in his home, wrapped
up in his bedsheets, and she didn’t even know his name. There was
something very…
naughty
about that. Very unlike herself.

Her quick shower finished and she pulled the
shirt cautiously over her bandaged head. She felt slightly better
after the shower, as though she had washed off some poisonous
residue of the previous night. She drew up the sweatpants too,
having to pull the draw-string extra tight, and even then they
threatened to fall off. They completely swamped her feet, so she
rolled them up a few times. The bulky sweater was wonderfully warm
and left her feeling protected; maybe he had intended that. In any
other shirt without her bra on, she might have felt exposed.

She couldn't put off the inevitable anymore,
and walked out of the bathroom. She would just have to confront
him, ask for his name, and then demand just who he was and why he
had helped her so many times. She deserved answers, didn’t she? She
nodded to herself in the mirror. Yes, she did.

He was in the living room when she entered,
slouched on a couch in front of the TV, the screen on but the sound
mute. Once again, watching the news. She wondered if he was waiting
for something.

She sat down on the seat across from him,
steadying her nerves. Now what to say?

Surprisingly, he beat her to it.

“
You’ll have to go to school later,”
he said, nodding to the TV. “Your picture is all over the local
news. They think you were eaten by some animal. You should make an
appearance so they know you’re okay.”

To be honest, she'd rather be passed off as
dead, but she knew that would lead to all matter of complications.
“What should I say to the school?” she asked hesitantly. She lifted
a hand to the bandage that covered her right temple, touching it
lightly. Her stomach suddenly cramped again, realizing he had done
that for her. No one had ever bothered to bandage her up
before.

He glanced at her. “Tell them the truth –
they attacked you in your house, you ran, you got lost.”

“
Right, and I got back to
school…?”

“
You’re a dedicated
student.”

“
I’m definitely not a dedicated
student.”

He cast her a sharp look, and for a moment
she was embarrassed – what, was he mad at her for not studying? She
could have laughed.

“
You try studying in my position, it
ain’t easy,” she mumbled. He didn't reply. Maybe he didn't care and
she was overanalyzing again. “Alright,” she said instead. “How
about I got lost, then found my way back to the town, then went to
school because I didn’t know what else to do?”

“
Sounds good to me. I’ll drive you,”
he said.

Her stomach flopped again. How many times had
she dreamed of driving around with him? As pathetic as it sounded,
she used to fantasize about him picking her up from school, or
walking her home, or any of the other romantic things she saw girls
sharing with their boyfriends. Not that he was anything like her
boyfriend. Or could be. How old was he again?

She would have asked, except at that moment
he stood up. He crossed the living room, something like a prowl,
and sat smoothly next to her without warning. She was shocked by
his sudden nearness. Her breath became short. She didn’t know what
to do – and she knew it showed all over her.

But he ignored her nervous reaction. Instead
he reached forward and inspected her bandage, testing it and
touching it gently.

“
Does it hurt?”

“
Yeah,” she mumbled, looking down at
her clasped hands.

“
You have beautiful eyes.”

Her breath caught. She looked up at him but
he didn’t return her glance; he seemed completely focused on the
wound on her head. His hands were so gentle, she could hardly
believe how large they were, wide and calloused. Her mouth went
dry. Had he really said those words? No one had ever complimented
her before – and she wasn’t sure why he would now.

“
We should change the bandage,” he
said, as though that brief moment had never happened. “Come with
me.”

And he took her hand, as he had done so many
times, and lead her off the couch. She didn’t know what to expect –
her gut wouldn’t settle. She was a virgin and ignored by boys up to
this point, completely unused to this kind of attention. A strange
warmth bloomed deep in her belly. She liked it – but it scared the
hell out of her.

How could she trust this man? Perhaps he had
saved her, but she knew nothing about him.

He led her back to his room. The sheets were
messed up; her blood pressure tripled the moment she stepped
through his doorway. His bedroom. His bed. She had slept right
there, curled up on his pillows. Suddenly she wanted to do nothing
more than rip her hand away and hide.

He just led her to the bed and let her hand drop. “Have a
seat, I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and briefly their eyes met.
His look made her breath catch all over again. Did it mean
something? It was all fiery and intense and…
hot.
No boy had ever looked at her like
that before… and certainly no man.

Then he turned and left the bedroom, taking
long, swift strides. She sat down on the bed with a flop, then
winced as her head hurt. Should she leave? Should she run to the
phone (wherever it was) and call the police?

But, damn her, she just wanted to stay a
minute more.

This is stupid. This man could be a dangerous psychopath,
but I’m sitting here in his bedroom. I need to get out of
here.
Her
emotions were fighting with her common sense, but finally common
sense won out. She had escaped one threat last night, but she
wasn't free yet — she had to get out of this house. No matter how
disarming he acted, he was a complete stranger and she couldn’t
trust him. She couldn’t
allow
herself to trust him….

Maddy stood up and headed to the window that
was on the other side of the bed. She threw back the curtains and
inspected the latch – it was the easy, sliding kind. She shoved the
window up until it was halfway open, then abruptly it jammed and
she couldn't get it any higher. She bit her lip and struggled, then
gave up – ah well, it was half open, she could fit through.

Her heart pounding, she nudged her shoulder
through the gap. One leg fit through, and she slid a bit farther.
The ground was low on the other side and her foot didn’t reach it,
but she could see the dirt patches of an unkempt garden. It wasn't
a far drop. Beyond the yard was an old fence and then a very
familiar street, one she had walked along countless times. So close
to freedom!

She was jamming her hip through the opening
when she got stuck. She struggled, trying to shove her shoulder
through a little farther, but her neck and head were in the way,
and there was just no getting rid of those. She grunted in
frustration – he would be back any second now, and she had to redo
the whole thing. If she could just get back out from this tangled
position….

Someone cleared their throat.

Shit.

“
Do you need any help?” That deep,
masculine voice. Maddy flinched and looked up in dread, expecting
anger, expecting a fist to come flying at her from nowhere… but
there was nothing. Just her rescuer, standing in the doorway of the
room, leaning against the door frame with a roll of gauze and what
appeared to be cotton swabs. She swallowed hard, embarrassment
flooding her, and forced herself to raise her eyes. Meet his
gaze.

There was a hint of humor in those green eyes
that made her relax. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so
slightly.

“
Um… just needed a… breath of fresh
air,” she said lamely, her one foot dangling about six inches above
the ground. She struggled to get back in the window, but she
couldn’t budge. “Um… I’m a bit stuck.”

“
I can see that,” he said.

She frowned, finally fed up with his
close-mouthed attitude. “Alright, so help me, like you always do!”
she growled.

Then he really did smile. His white teeth
shone against his tan skin, and he dropped the first-aid package on
the bed. He went to stand next to her by the window, but he didn’t
move immediately to touch her, just looked at her position. The
smile faded slightly but remained present.

“
Do you want in or out?” he asked,
embarrassing her even further. She blushed and stared resolutely at
the floor.

“
In,” she muttered.

“
Mm-hm,” he grunted, then carefully
grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. She
adjusted herself accordingly until he could reach around her and
grab her leg, then he began to twist, slowly pulling her inside the
room. She tried not to feel his hot hand through the material of
the sweat pants. His fingers were against the inside of her thigh,
so close to her most intimate part. She bit her lip. Somehow, her
body was responding to him, reacting in ways that no virgin body
should – she was sure of that. Her belly clenched again and she
felt her crotch tingle. His other arm wrapped around her chest,
right beneath her breasts, and with an easy motion he lifted her
clear of the window and set her on her feet.

He closed the window, but left it open just
slightly, glancing at her. “For the air,” he said, raising an
eyebrow, and she couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or what.

“
Thanks,” she mumbled again, still
embarrassed.

“
Be careful of your head,” he said,
suddenly frowning, and put his hand against the wound along her
temple. She nodded and tried to push him away, but the movement
caused a dizzy spell to hit her, and a second later her legs gave
out. She found herself sitting hard on the bed, unsure of what had
happened.

He sat next to her, his hand still along her
face, then he started working on her bandage. She closed her eyes
and groaned, then opened them a crack because she wanted to watch
him work. He really had an incredible body – this close she could
feel the heat coming off of him, almost unnaturally warm. His smell
distracted her again; warm and musky, the same as the bedsheets.
His arm rose to get better leverage as he slowly pulled the bandage
away, and she got a clear view of his strong biceps and the tattoo
that wrapped around his upper arm. It was a wolf’s head.

“
The bleeding stopped,” he told her,
showing her the bandage he held in his hand. There was a surprising
amount of blood on it, but it was old and dried, and she remembered
reading somewhere that even shallow head wounds bled far more than
regular ones. He took out some cotton and a bottle of alcohol and
started gently swabbing the wound, and she winced, wondering what
it looked like.

“
Is it… big?” she asked quietly,
watching his arms flex as he worked.

He paused, as though reminded of something
else, then said, “It’s a formidable wound, but I’ve seen
worse.”

She forced herself to stay still as the
alcohol burned and stung; it was easy, she was used to pain. He put
the cotton away and placed the gauze over the cut, securing it with
medical tape. He was so close to her, she didn’t want to move. His
thighs rubbed against hers as he worked, rough from the material of
his jeans, and his arms were practically framing her face. A few
more inches, and they would be hugging. The thought made her heart
flutter; yes, he had held her before, carrying her down the
mountain, but somehow everything was more intimate now. They were
looking at each other, talking, he was tending her wounds… and she
didn’t even know his name. She would have to fix that soon. At this
rate, part of her hoped he would never finish.