“Taggert?” Her voice emerged as a rasp. She tried to turn, but Jackson had crawled in her lap, effectively pinning her in place.
“He’s fine. A few nasty scratches, but he’ll be as good as new after a few days.” Dominic helped Taggert stand and eased him down next to her. Only when he carefully leaned against her did she finally believe that everything might work out.
Dominic’s laser-green gaze pierced hers. “I’m more worried about your wounds. Let me see your injuries before Scotts calls those medics he’s been threatening to have trample through the forest and destroy evidence.”
Raven stilled at Dominic’s warning. That’s the last thing she needed. She couldn’t allow others to touch her blood and question how fast she healed. If someone got curious and ran her DNA, she’d be screwed.
“Fine.” She gripped the knife, ready to jerk it out when Durant’s large hand latched onto her wrist.
“Wait. Let me get a bandage first.” With a serious flex of muscles, he slipped out of his shirt to reveal a close fitting tee that drew attention to his body. He ripped the material into strips. The men exchanged a look. Taggert slipped an arm around her waist and tightened his grip.
“I can do it.” She wiggled, trying to break free. Durant couldn’t touch her blood.
They ignored her. Durant nodded, lifted the makeshift pad, while Dominic gripped the knife handle. One jerk and the metal slipped free with a juicy sound. She struggled, but it did no good. Blood spilled down the front of her shirt. The pain spiked when fresh air hit, twisting through her chest as if the knife took a chunk of her shoulder with it.
Durant knocked away her hands when she grabbed for the pad and deftly applied enough pressure, stopping any protest she might have given by stealing her breath.
She gritted her teeth, cursing her weakness. Tears tore at her soul as blood soaked his hands. The fight drained out of her, and bitterness sought a target.
Unwilling for the police to see them in such a vulnerable position, she snarled. “There is a cave that way. Why don’t you see if you can rescue someone there.”
She jerked her head, indicating the vast darkness beyond the circle of trees. As soon as Scotts glanced away, Dominic pocketed the knife with her blood on it.
“Head south about two hundred yards. Why not try to catch the others before they escape.” She didn’t say instead of harassing us like she wanted, but it was a stretch.
Tact.
That was her.
A mask descended over Scotts’ dusky, dark complexion and the hardnosed detective took over as he ordered his men about. What he didn’t do was leave them alone. Raven gave a subtle nod to Dominic to oversee the police. He hesitated, gave her one last searching glance and melted into the surroundings like he’d never been there.
“Too many people saw your wolf kill. I have no choice but to haul him in to the station.” Scotts paused, a bit resigned at her stiff attitude. Raven kept quiet less she say something irrevocably damaging. “I’ll do my best to process him quickly. I don’t see any issues with you being able to pick him up in the morning after we’ve cleared him. This is a clear case of self-defense.”
Despite the turmoil, Scotts’ statement was a huge concession.
For her.
Though she fought it, she was grateful. And that made her all the grumpier. Most shifters brought in on murder went through an inquisition that took months. By the time they gained their freedom, most went a little insane at being confined.
Only a very few packs had the political sway to reclaim their members from such a charge without huge fines and a lot of favors changing hands. Any law enforcement officials would say it doesn’t happen at all.
“Thank you.” Although she knew she was pushing him, she couldn’t resist making a demand. “Will you allow me to see if I can get him to shift?” She couldn’t stand to see him locked with chains and shoved in the metal wagon reserved for shifters in their animal form with only the bare minimum of padding to protect them.
Depending on the strength of the shifter, it could take hours to revert back to normal. Most didn’t have a choice when their animal contorted back to their human shape. But she had a feeling that Jackson was different. And a sinking suspicion that she’d made it worse with her interference.
Now she’d possibly infected Durant as well. Guilt battled for dominance, and she quickly shoved it away. She’d deal with Durant later.
“Jackson—” Even as she spoke, his fur receded, flowing into him like water. His back arched, a hiss escaped as his muscles pulled tight, and his body settled back into itself. He blindly reached for her, and she grabbed his hand. “I’m here. I have you.”