Savage Hunger(38)

Sienna sat in bed, once again dressed in an oversized T-shirt and knowing she should try and get some sleep. But also realizing how futile it was. Silence lingered in the house now. Ominous in its presence, but also a welcome relief from the angry male voices Sienna had listened to not long ago, raising and falling in a heated exchange. Fighting over something. Over her? Over what had just happened outside? Her stomach churned furiously and she swallowed hard.

God, she missed her old, uncomplicated life. Her cute little apartment, somewhat adequate social life, and nine-to-five mundane job that she was way overqualified for. Where the most drama in her life had been worrying about whether or not she was going to get into her top pick for grad school.

Of course it all seemed pretentious now. A flimsy shield of a life that hid the darkness and deception that really existed in the world.

It was almost too much to take in. What Warrick was. The P.I.A. and the fact that her father had worked for them since before she was born. And what had happened not even an hour ago outside.

A shiver racked her body as she replayed those horrific moments in her head. The look in the feral wolf’s eyes before it had launched itself at her. The fiery pain of its teeth ripping her flesh. She shook her head. Whatever had happened between getting attacked and waking up in the bedroom was mostly a blur.

Though if she closed her eyes, images would zip through her head. Images of Warrick fighting the wolf…of being carried in his arms…his mouth on her flesh. The visions were so fuzzy and surreal she could almost convince herself they were a dream.

Lifting her arm she looked at the nearly healed wound. But this was no dream. Warrick hadn’t lied. He’d literally healed her.

Warrick’s ominous parting remark about the blood in the room had freaked her out, and she’d immediately found towels to wipe it up.

She turned her arm slightly and narrowed her gaze. The puckered puncture marks were right above the artery in her arm. Another icy shiver slid down her spine and nausea slid through her. How close to death had she actually been? There’d been a lot of blood.

Her throat tightened and she wrapped her arms around her chest, glancing toward the closed door.

Where was Warrick now? Any of the men? It was far too quiet.

She closed her eyes and wondered if she was conjuring up the sound of footsteps in the house. But then they approached the door and her eyelashes fluttered up just in time to see it swing open.

Sienna’s pulse tripled and her heart did small flips at the sight of Warrick in the doorway. His face was drawn tight, the lines around his mouth indicating the stress of the night and lingering fatigue. But when his gaze slid to hers the disturbing hardness in his eyes disappeared and concern replaced it.

“How are you?” he asked quietly, closing the door before approaching the bed.

The automatic reply of “I’m fine” was on the tip of her tongue, but then it fizzled out. She wasn’t fine, and how the hell could it help pretending she was?

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, hating the way her voice cracked. “Warrick…you killed him, didn’t you? That shifter?”

The mattress dipped under his weight as Warrick came to sit beside her. He pushed a strand of hair off her forehead, his gaze searching hers.

“He would’ve killed you, Sienna.”

So that would be a yes. Hearing the confirmation put a lump that felt about the size of a golf ball in her throat. Warrick had killed for her. He’d killed another shifter. The staggering realization mixed with the ache of the senseless loss. Somehow she knew the shifter never would’ve hurt her if he hadn’t been feral. He’d been out of his mind from whatever drug had been pumped into his system.

“How much trouble are you in?” she asked quietly.

His jaw flexed, before he gave a short shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll face it when the time comes.”

No. Oh, God, no. He was in trouble. None of this would’ve happened if she were a better scientist. Or if she’d gone straight to her father. Or if she hadn’t tried to escape… The last thought sent a wave of guilt and horror through her that sucked away her ability to breathe.

“Stop it,” Warrick muttered fiercely. “I know what you’re thinking, Sienna, and you need to stop.”

“But I promised you I wouldn’t leave the house.” She shook her head, angry tears filling her eyes. A shifter was dead because she was an impulsive, stupid—

Strong hands pulled her across the bed and her mind immediately abandoned its dark path as she found herself dragged up against Warrick’s hard chest. His arms curled around her to keep her cocooned against his warmth and his lips grazed her forehead.