Page 7 of Rescued

The need still lingers, an intensity I don’t understand. It’s not just physical—this feels deeper, more primal, like something’s missing. The sensation burns under my skin, sinking into my muscles, my tendons, my very bones.

I try to puzzle it out, but after several minutes, I give up.

For now, I rinse off and finish my shower, the ache still simmering inside me, and decide that what I need is a glass of water. If I can’t cool my libido in the shower, a cold drink will have to do.

I lean against the kitchen counter, my hair still damp from the shower, debating whether to drag my sleeping bag into the washroom. The wolf’s care requires attention, especially with the IV, and it would be easier to monitor him if I just camped out there.

But the thought of sleeping in the same room as the wolf fills me with something I can’t explain. It’s not fear—at least, not entirely.

I’ve always had a strong connection to dogs. But this is different. This wolf feels different. It’s like something inside me resonates with him, something I can’t identify.

I shake my head, trying to focus on practical matters.

There’s also the anger I felt earlier. The rush of possessiveness when Adam touched him—where the hell did that come from?It’s not rational, and I can’t even begin to unpack it.

The blaring of the alarm rips me from a restless sleep for the fourth and final time. I groan, my body aching with exhaustion. It feels like I haven’t slept at all, even though I managed to snatch a few hours here and there. But those hours had been anything but restful, filled with vivid, sensual dreams that cling to me even now, refusing to fade.

Dark hair, warm brown eyes, and the sweetest, most perfect ass I’ve ever seen.

The man in my dreams had been beautiful, magnetic in a way I couldn’t explain. But that wasn’t what unsettled me the most. His presence seemed to blur and shift, blending with the wolf’s image before snapping back to the man again. It didn’t make sense.

And then there was the name.

Mika.

It had floated from his lips, spoken in a voice so sultry it made my toes curl even in sleep. Mika. It wasn’t a name I would have thought of, not something I’d ever encountered before. Where had my subconscious pulled it from? The whole thing was bizarre, layered with an intensity I couldn’t shake.

If I ever went to a psychiatrist—which I won’t—they’d probably have a field day analyzing this dream. A man who turns into a wolf? And sex so mind-blowing it made my skin tingle just thinking about it?

No thanks.

I shrug off the lingering fog of confusion, tossing the blankets to the side. I’d decided my bed was the best place to catch a few hours’ sleep and had ambled there from the kitchen late last night. My body is as restless as my mind, my morning erection pressing insistently against my boxers. For a moment, I consider taking care of it, relieving the tension clawing at me, but guilt flares hot and sharp.

The wolf.

I can’t justify seeking my own pleasure when there’s still an injured animal in the house. It feels wrong, even if I know he’s probably fine. Shoving the thought aside, I pull on my boxers and hope they’ll at least hide my situation. Wandering into the washroom with a raging hard-on would just feel…weird.

Smiling in anticipation, I push open the washroom door.

The smile dies instantly.

I freeze in the doorway, my heart lurching in my chest as my eyes dart around the room. The IV bag hangs limp and empty, the drip line lying abandoned on the floor with a needle still attached.

But the wolf is gone.

“What the hell?”

I shoot into the room, my voice echoing off the tiles as I search frantically. There’s no sign of him. My pulse pounds as I scan every inch of the space, my mind racing. He couldn’t have gotten out.

Could he?

My stomach twists painfully as I bolt into the hallway, calling out, even though I know it’s useless.

I search every room in the house, tearing through the living room, the kitchen, even my bedroom. Nothing.

And then I see the window.

I’d left it cracked open last night, unable to resist the cool breeze drifting in. Now, the screen hangs slightly ajar, the latch unhooked. But something’s off.

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