Training Their Mate(3)

She squeezed her eyes shut. Instead of the expected pain of teeth tearing her flesh, a soft pop—like that of a gun with a silencer—sounded, and the attack never came.

Her breath caught. She opened her eyes and stared at the dogs’ raised muzzles as they looked past her and over her head. Their howls nearly pierced her eardrums, and she clamped her hands over her ears, too afraid to move. The larger of the two backed up, but they both kept their focus behind her. Then suddenly, the dogs did an about face and sprinted back to the car. Hope filled her.

As they raced away her vision blurred and she blinked a few times. Long legs emerged from the hurrying mass, then arms popped through the swirling balls of fur, and finally heads. By the time the creatures climbed back into the van, they were human.

Okay, that was so not right. She was clearly hallucinating. As soon as the van fled the scene she twisted around, curious to discover who or what scared the vicious animals away. A tall man with a handgun by his side stood silhouetted against the alley entrance.

When she tried to get up, he raced toward her and knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

In spite of the streetlight, she couldn’t see his face but his tone sounded reassuring. In fact, it had an official air to it.

“Are you a cop?” Maybe Mr. Couch had turned her in to the authorities. Her head ached and her mind fuzzed.

“I’m not a cop, but I am a former marine if that counts. Where are you hurt?”

She hadn’t taken the time to fully assess her injuries. Her adrenaline from minutes ago waned.

“My knees.” She tried to touch them then noticed her bloodied hands. “My hands, too.” The cuts throbbed more than her head, and she was drenched to the skin. Hell, she was cold and achy, and apparently hallucinating. Here she thought she’d seen dogs turn into men. Perhaps she was losing her mind.

The Good Samaritan looked both ways down the alley. “They might be back. We need to get you to safety. Otherwise, I’d take the time to check you out here.”

She loved the sound of the safety word but hated the thought that the men might return.

“They couldn’t have been after me. It must have been a case of mistaken identity, or maybe the dogs just got loose.”

“I wish that was true, but it’s not.”

What did he know that she didn’t? Maybe now wasn’t the best time for twenty questions. The rain hadn’t let up and she shivered. The last thing she needed was to get within striking distance of those horrible beasts, again. He was right about one thing. She had to get the hell out of here. “Okay, then. Sure.”

He helped her stand, and when she brushed off the gravel bits from her knees blood trickled down her legs.

“Let me see your palm.”

This man was as much a stranger as the men in the van, but he’d saved her while those other men had tried to maim or possibly kill her. Right now she was in no position to argue, so she held it out.

The splattering rain made the red liquid pool. If the stranger hadn’t been holding her palm, she would have tilted it to get rid of the blood. “It hurts.”

“We need to get you to a doctor.”

“What I need is to go home and take a hot shower.” And get as far away from here as possible. A shudder raced down her body when she remembered the vision of the animals turning into men.

“No.”

No? “Excuse me, but I don’t even know you.” She jerked her hand back.

“Ma’am. I’m trained as a first responder. From the blood on your forehead, it looks like you banged your head, too. You might have a concussion. As much as I’d like to get another shot at those bastards, can we go?”

Perhaps her concussed brain was messed up. “Fine.”

He replaced the gun in his holster. On her first step, her knee sent out a twinge and she was forced to grab his proffered hand. When it was clear she had to limp, he wrapped a secure arm around her waist. She leaned against his side and couldn’t help notice how well their bodies meshed. Considering her lips came to his neck, she’d say he was a couple inches over six feet to her five-foot nine inches in her three-inch heels.

What was she doing thinking about this man? She should be focusing on the fact she’d almost been killed. An invisible draw seemed to exist between them, almost as if destiny had stepped in. Ridiculous. You’re just scared.

She tried to replay what happened in her mind, but it became more horrific each time. When they reached the sidewalk he turned left instead of heading toward her car. She wasn’t getting into his vehicle, no matter if he was some military dude or even the Chief of Police.

“My car’s the other way,” she said.