The Alpha’s Desire 2(26)

 

 

 

That force, that tornado of energy in my stomach that Lex had made me focus on and bring forth into my hand, had shot from one point to the other until my hand had felt enflamed and somewhat possessed. Had my magic actually guided my hand, directed my knife to some kill point? I shook my head at the seeming impossibility of it. I’d gotten lucky, but who knew anymore, in this world I’d so abruptly become immersed in.

 

 

 

Kill, the word echoed through my head. I’d never taken the life from anything. Me, one so traumatized by death at an early age, I wouldn’t even own fish for fear of having to flush their dead, cold carcasses. Now, something had stopped breathing at my hand, my doing. I’d plunged a sharp metal blade into a heart. I’d robbed someone, or something, no, some beast, of life. With it, the man wouldn’t see another minute either.

 

 

 

Lex, covered in blood, emerged in his human form from under the dying or dead wolf. Thankfully, the result of my actions let me focus on the intent that had driven me to the point of being made murderer. Just the word set my teeth on edge. Lex’s shoulder badly mangled, still even in his human form, the gashes shown forth as being bone deep. Not one for blood, I swallowed at the nausea that rolled in my stomach and rose in my throat.

 

 

 

“It’s okay,” Lex muttered to me, re-focusing my attention from his wounds, which appeared life-threatening. “I will be fine. But, you, you look so pale. Please, drop the knife and sit down.”

 

 

 

I looked down at the blood-covered knife that hung from my hand, my fingers barely holding onto it, and let if finally drop. Careless, it hit the floor next to my toes and bounced an inch or so away. Gulping for air, my chest shuttered and rose with each attempt. Bile rose as the smell of blood this time took on a different meaning. I’d spilled it. As my throat tightened, giving my lungs reason to really panic, tears stung my eyes. My chin quivered, so I clenched my teeth in some weak defiance of my traitor of a body. I needed to focus on Lex now, dead wolf or wolves later.

 

 

 

“It’s okay, Christina,” he wheezed, his breath hitching over the words. “It had to be done. I’m alive because you are so brave. I don’t know any woman who would dare go against a werewolf. Regardless, he forced your hand. Kill or be killed.”

 

 

 

The words echoed as familiar in my brain. I’d thought the same of him when he’d protected me. I now needed to think the same of myself, as I’d protected him.

 

 

 

“I don’t know what possessed me. I just saw you lying there, bleeding, hurting… I felt this pain from you, not one physical, though, emotional,” I surmised, trying to explain out loud what I couldn’t even rationalize yet.

 

 

 

“I felt the pain of failure as I laid here, unable to get to you,” he growled.

 

 

 

I’d never get completely used to that animal sound coming from a man, but then, he wasn’t just a man. He made another sound as he tried to move, once more that of a wounded animal, a cry at first high that then went more to a low baying as he stumbled, but stood.

 

 

 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I choked out on a sob as I went to him.

 

 

 

Grabbing the hand on his uninjured side, I tried to lead him to the door. My mind raced as to the location of my purse and keys. Scanning, I saw that I’d dropped them at the small table by my door in my haste to get to the window last night when I’d returned home. The keys rested close to the edge, but my purse lay on the floor, on its side, with only a few non-essentials like lipstick and tissues having fallen out.

 

 

 

“Don’t worry about me, love,” he hissed, bringing us to an abrupt halt. “My magic, what makes me a shifter in a sense, it gives me the power to heal quickly. I’ll be fine.”

 

 

 

“But,” I got out as I dared look at his shoulder again.

 

 

 

Though still painful looking and frankly gross, the shreds of skin had already moved, merged back together enough that they looked like gashes from four long claws. I dropped his hand and gingerly touched his chest. No idea why. I wanted some kind of confirmation that he was real. Not sure why holding his hand hadn’t been good enough for that. I shook off my stumbling and stupidly random thoughts.

 

 

 

His hand came up to his chest to cup mine, but paused inches from it. The blood that had been on his paws, his claws, now dried on his fingers and hands. I looked away, but that only brought into my line of vision the state of my living room. A bloody war zone didn’t cover it, the space having had four oversized wolves battle it out.