Now he hovered in the hallway, clenching and unclenching his fists. Her smell drove him insane, and not the sweet honey-like scent of her skin — deeper smells, like her sweat on a cold night, her fear, her adrenaline-induced pheromones. He had sensed her smell change when she had first seen him in the kitchen. He knew what the sight of him did to her. He had sensed the same change in the hardware store, where he had seen her occasionally. He could remember when she had first been hired there; skittish, pale, lost in the oversized employee uniform. She always had dark circles under her eyes. A girl her age shouldn't look so tired.
He wanted to bring her closer. He had many secrets, most of which would mean her death if they got loose. Werewolves had been thought of as mythological for thousands of years and wanted to keep it that way. If the world found out the truth, then someone would have to pay. But he knew he could trust her. It was written all over her face. She was the type who could keep a secret — who probably kept many.
His werewolf senses were what had originally led him to her. He could smell her fear from the other side of the mountain if the wind was blowing in the right direction. He had been new to the area on that first night, having just moved to Black River, an isolated town between pack territories — no man's land, perfect for an exile. He had gone for a midnight run and heard her whimpers from half a mile away. She would have never survived that cold night on the mountain, not in her sleeping shirt. For those first few years, he had found her outside almost once a month, terrified and alone. Originally he had tried to keep his distance, avoiding places she might be in town. But years had passed, and at fourteen she had started her menstrual cycle, and then he had known. Her smell had changed completely. Far too young — but her scent had called to him, drawn him as only a lifemate's could. He had avoided her for years after that, worried of what he might do if the wolf were provoked.
He knew very little about her life beyond the mountain — but now he knew one thing. She was in trouble.
He could hear her in the bathroom. She was taking a shower. He thought of her wrapped up in his bedsheets, a loose inch between him and her bare skin. He had been short and withdrawn toward her, only because he feared what he would do if he let himself relax. Probably push the bacon out of the way, bend her over the counter and take her virginity before she knew how to refuse him.
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 n
ow.
“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.
But then he did finish and his hands stilled – but he didn’t move away. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath against her cheek. She turned slightly, meeting his eyes… they were bright green and intense, staring at her, and she couldn’t read their expression. She didn’t know what to expect, but a thousand scenarios raced through her mind, all of which ended in very good ways.
“You flinch a lot,” he commented, though his voice was deep and husky, rougher than before. Her breath caught. She licked her lips nervously — but only then thought of how that must look.
“What’s your name?” she asked, breathless, knowing it was stupid, but she was this close to him and it seemed like she wouldn’t ever get a straight answer.
He smiled tha
t slow, sexy smile, where the corner of his lips barely lifted. Then suddenly his head dipped forward, and she gasped, his lips very gently pressing against hers. No, not her lips – the corner of her mouth.
He pulled away, still smiling, and hovered with his face barely and inch away. She couldn’t breathe. Everything about him was overpowering her, stealing her senses and making her weak and trembly. She was hot between her legs, dripping and probably ruining his sweatpants.
“Gareth,” he said softly. Then he leaned towards her again, his mouth claiming hers a second time. His tongue brushed against her lips, and Maddy froze; she didn’t know what to do, she had never been kissed before, especially not with a head wound and wearing some guy’s clothing. She felt like she might just pass out from all the crazy things happening. But the kiss was brief, only ending when his teeth – which seemed a bit sharp, now that she thought about it – nipped her bottom lip. She gasped in surprise and felt a drop of blood against her skin, a thin stream running down to her chin.
She pulled away, fear abruptly tightening her stomach, dismissing all the warm sensations she’d been experiencing. She wiped her mouth and looked at her hand. It was bleeding, but not a lot, just like any cut lip would…. He had sat back as well an was gathering up his medical supplies, as though nothing had happened.
He glanced at her. “I’ve been thinking of that for a while now,” he said, humor in his eyes again.
She didn’t know what to think or what to say. She just stared at him. He had kissed her – twice – and she had never been kissed before. She had fantasized about this moment plenty of times, but somehow she had never thought it would happen like this. Somehow she felt… unsatisfied.
“I should really be going to school now,” she said, and was surprised by the husky sound of her own voice.
He stood up and casually headed for the door. “Your clothes should be done by now. I’ll show you to the car in a moment.”
“I’d rather walk, thank you,” she sniffed, glaring in his direction. She felt a little taken advantage of. He couldn't just cook her breakfast and kiss her whenever he wanted, and then drive her to school. He acted as though he owned her — as though they had always been this way.