Electric Storm(112)

Raven didn’t have the strength to shrug. “She’s more animal than anything, squirreling away body parts for food stores. She wanted away from them.”

“And now that the police removed her food supply,” Taggert reminded her, “she’ll hunt for more.”

Raven shook her head. “They’ve been hunting in these woods for months. There were dozens missing, and we found only a fraction of them.”

Neither man was satisfied with that answer. Hell, she wasn’t either. “Taggert, shower first, then food.”

The glaze in his eyes told he was at the end of his rope. The wolf had been too close to the surface for too long, taking a toll on his body. Seconds later, the shower thrummed to life.

“Let me clean you up.” Durant guided her to the bathroom. He wasn’t asking.

He prowled around her, always remaining within touching distance, always watching. The large tiled bathroom felt cramped with him in the room. No place to hide from the strong leather scent that always clung to him. It softened her edge when she needed it most.

Before she knew what to expect, Durant slipped his large hands over her hips and lifted her onto the counter. Cold granite sucked a gasp from her. When she opened her mouth to object, the tightness around his mouth had her rethinking her protest.

“The first aid kit is under the sink.”

He bent, retrieved the cardboard box, inspected the healthy supply and grunted as if the abundance of products was barely adequate. He carefully unwound the makeshift bandages, his touch so light she barely felt it. The slice on her arm was a thin line, the wound already clotted and sealed thanks to her animals. The gunshot was the same but had more of a singed look. He wet a cloth and cleaned each area, edging closer until he was wedged between her thighs with her having no idea how he got there.

Under the light, with his head bowed, she could see faint stripes in his wild mane of hair. Something about it had a smile curling her lips, but she resisted the urge to pet him. She didn’t think he’d appreciate the fact that she thought it was cute.

She shifted to give him better access, and the scab on her leg broke open in protest. She didn’t say a word, but Durant stilled. He inhaled deeply, a line forming between his brows.

“You re-opened your wound.” It was an accusation. He glanced down, peering through the jagged gap in the material where Solider Boy’s knife struck her thigh. “I’ll have to cut off your jeans.”

“This is the second time that’s happened this week. I’ll be out of clothes soon if you guys keep it up.” She meant it as a joke, but the lines around his mouth deepened.

“I’ll replace them.” As he spoke, he pulled out a large double-edged knife from a sheath at his back. One she hadn’t even known existed. She jumped, expecting to feel cold steel, but he sliced the fabric with practiced ease. When she leaned back to give him room, he lifted the knife and sliced through the shredded fabric of her shirt.

“Hey!” The top gapped, revealing her chest down to her navel. Feeling very much exposed, she jerking up the corners to cover her bra. When he didn’t move, she finally lifted her gaze, knowing the bastard’s patience would outlast hers. “What?”

His focus zeroed on her injuries, a closed expression to his face made her feel lower than an insect. “You never called. You knew you were going into danger, and you never called.”

“I—” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even think to give him a call and knew he wouldn’t appreciate that fact if he ever found out. “Everything happened so fast. We had to move.”

This time he wouldn’t meet her eyes, busying himself by searching in the med box. She felt the need to explain further.

“I’ve been alone most of my life. I don’t know anything about pack. I’ve never been in one and don’t have the first clue of how one works.” He put a bandage on her leg, ripping the tape with his teeth. She grabbed his hand when he finished securing the last edge. “I don’t know how to rely on anyone else.”

The shower shut off. Durant pulled away and inspected her shoulder. He picked up the cloth and dabbed the area. Like a damn cat, he wouldn’t be appeased with an apology. He was going to make her work for it.

Taggert stepped out of the shower. The vicious cut slashed across his back from lower waist to mid back. The bullet wound still oozed blood. A patch of angry red marred his upper shoulder from where she had torn the tracker out of him. Skin stretched over each of his ribs as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

She jumped down, ignoring the jarring pain that shot up her thigh. Testing her core, she cursed the dormant energy, unable to call upon even the tiniest thread to heal him. The meager supply was all locked up mending her own body, and not allowing her to gainsay it.