Rebecca’s Wolves(98)

Hands landed on her shoulders. Human hands.

She drew back, unwilling to open her eyes. Unable to face the intruder as he killed her.

And then she heard his voice faintly through the ringing sound that was all that was left of her moaning.

“Rebecca. Baby. It’s Griffen. Open your eyes. You’re safe.” He wrapped one arm around her before she believed it was truly him.

She stopped screaming, or her voice box ran out of fuel. Either way, she slumped into Griffen’s side and opened her eyes a slit.

He was in the tub with her, crouched in front of her. His left arm was wrapped in a white T-shirt soaked with blood.

Another hand landed on her back as she fell forward. She winced as though burned.

But the palm flattened out, and she knew the touch belonged to Miles. “Love. It’s Miles. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t okay. She would never be okay. Didn’t they understand?

•●•

Griffen paced the living room. In fact he’d been pacing for so long, the rug was surely worn. He lifted his gaze for the millionth time to find his mate still passed out on the couch. Her head was in Miles’ lap, but otherwise she was curled in a near fetal position.

They’d wrapped her in several blankets to stop the shaking, but even asleep she shivered.

Miles had cranked up the heat in the house so high everyone inside was burning up.

Melinda sat at Rebecca’s feet. She kept a hand on her leg and stroked through the layers. “Griffen, sit down. You’re wearing yourself out. When she wakes, she’s going to need you. Both of you. You’re no good to her exhausted and stressed with bloodshot eyes.”

He knew she was right, but he couldn’t get his body to slow down. Adrenaline still pumped through him hours later.

The sun had gone down.

He walked to the window to look out. There were four squad cars out front with their lights on. No sirens. Just lights.

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes against the view, setting his forehead against the cool glass and trying to calm his racing heart.

It could have gone so much worse. They’d been lucky.

Randal Junior had bitten the first man out front on the leg so hard he’d broken the bone, and then he’d made a beeline for the house without stopping. Corbin Archers, the other officer in charge, had run from the tree line when he heard his partner shout, but he’d been far enough away that Randal made it into the house long before him.

Randal had been wasted, with a blood alcohol so high that he felt nothing but strong determination to kill.

In this case, his number had been up. Griffen had aimed to kill and shot Randal in the chest, killing him instantly.

The master bedroom was a disaster. Every piece of furniture was broken, and blood spattered the walls and floor from the fight and the shooting.

“You okay, Griffen?” Melinda’s voice filtered into his thoughts from close range.

He turned to face her and lifted his head off the glass. She forced a smile. “Fine.” As far from fine as possible, but that was what she wanted to hear.

She furrowed her brow and lifted his hand with hers, twisting it to examine the bandage she’d applied down the length of his forearm. The gauze was red again with his blood. “You need to shift. Just for a while.”

He shook his head, and she sighed. He had no interest in shifting until he was sure Rebecca was okay. “Any change?” He lifted his chin toward his mate.

Melinda shook her head. “Not yet. Give her time. That was quite a shock. She needs sleep. She’ll be fine when her body is ready to wake up.” She tugged his arm. “But you won’t be if you keep bleeding. You need to shift. For a few hours at least.”

He relented with an exhale. As he wandered toward the couch, he popped the button on his jeans with his good hand. He set a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Gonna shift.”

Miles lifted his gaze from Rebecca. “You should.” He nodded at the end of the couch vacated by Melinda. “Lie at her feet. You won’t miss anything.”

Griffen stripped his jeans, shifted, and curled up at his mate’s feet, letting blessed sleep claim him also. Just for a few minutes…

•●•

Rebecca’s head was pounding, and there were voices, whispered voices that sounded far away. She blinked her eyes open in confusion, the bright light of day instantly making her groan.

Her throat hurt. She swallowed past the dryness. Was she sick?

And then her memory filtered in.

The fight. The huge wolf. The gunshot. She’d been in shock…

“Rebecca?” She recognized Miles’ voice first. It was closer.

She breathed in deeply. His scent surrounded her. As she opened her eyes wider, she realized her head was in his lap, and he stared down at her.