Page 6 of The Witch's Shifter
“Bring him through here,” Aurora calls back to us, pointing toward the front of the cottage. “The kitchen doorway is too narrow.”
Alden and I follow her instructions, carrying the man around the front and up the steps to the door. She’s already got it open wide for us. I shift through the door first, followed by Alden. The wooden floor groans beneath our weight.
“Put him on the couch,” Aurora says.
With tandem grunts, we haul the man into the parlor and try to dump him onto the couch withsomedelicacy—not that it’s easy given his weight. The cushions sag beneath him, and now that he’s sprawled in the sunlight, it’s easy to see just how naked he is.
I curl my fingers into fists, then hurriedly snatch one of Aurora’s hand-stitched quilts from the basket beside the hearth and drape it over the man’s hips. His broad chest is still visible—and still bleeding—but at least part of him is covered.
Alden and I step back when Aurora brushes past us to kneel at the man’s side. The hem of her skirt is muddy and dotted with leaves, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I want to grab her and carry her from the room, refuse to let her and our child be anywhere near him, but somehow, I don’t think she’d let that fly.
“I need clean cloths and previously boiled water,” she says without looking back at us. At first, we don’t move. Until she casts a severe look over her shoulder.
If I weren’t so bothered by this whole situation, the fire in her emerald eyes would’ve made me want to trace my hands upher thighs and make love to her right here on the parlor floor. Instead, it just makes me glare more fiercely at the strange man.
“I’ll get the cloths,” Alden says.
Well, guess I’m fetching the boiled water.
It’s odd moving through the cottage in my heavy armor, and I have to be careful not to bump into the doorframes or knock Aurora’s little glass jars and vials off the counters and shelves. I pour warm water from the kettle into a clean bowl, then carry it carefully into the parlor and set it upon the floor next to her.
“Thank you,” she says, still not looking up at me. Her gaze is focused on the unconscious man. She begins brushing his hair back gently, further exposing the wounds littering his body. The one on his chest is bleeding badly, and when Alden returns with fresh cloths, that’s the one she starts with.
We both linger, not quite comfortable enough to sit but not wanting to leave her alone with the shifter either. Alden goes to lean against the mantel above the hearth while I retreat to the doorway and slump my weight against the frame, armor clinking.
Working quietly and efficiently, Aurora applies pressure to the wound. In sleep, the man winces, and his lips pull back to reveal slightly elongated canines. The glimpse of them makes my chest squeeze, and my hand inches toward the hilt of my sword, but still the man does not wake. Alden and I exchange a look across the parlor.
This was such a bad idea.
After the bleeding is under control and the man is in a better state, I’m going to insist we transport him to Niamh’s apothecary. She’ll know what to do with him, and he’ll be safely away from Aurora—and the baby.
It’s my responsibility to protect them both.
Even from here, I can see the slight bump beneath Aurora’s dress, the swelling of her stomach that means my child isgrowing inside her. The sight of it makes me want to leap across the room and tear her away from the shifter, put myself and my sword between them, but Aurora would be livid with me. She’d probably make me sleep at the guardhouse tonight. So instead, I shift my weight and try not to get too upset as I watch the way her fingers work carefully over the stranger’s brown skin.
After she’s staunched the bleeding, she washes her hands and then begins using the boiled water to clean his wounds. As she works, I keep a steady eye on the man’s face. He could awake at any moment, in pain and confused, and I can’t let him hurt Aurora. I’ll drive my sword through his chest before I allow that to happen.
The air in the parlor is thick with tension—so much so that both Alden and I jump when Harrison meows by my feet. Aurora glances at him, then at me and Alden, seeming to only just realize us there.
“These look to be a few days old,” she explains. “They’re deep, but I was able to stop the bleeding. I need to bandage them now.” Her gaze shifts from me to Alden. “Will one of you help me?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, we both step forward, which makes her lips quirk up on one side.
“Go ahead,” I tell Alden. I’d rather have my hands free anyway in case I need to draw my sword.
“Will you lift his torso for me so I can get the bandages around him?” she asks.
Alden’s only reply is a grunt and a wrinkled brow. I can tell he’s enjoying this about as much as I am, which is to saynot at all.
As Alden shifts the man to allow Aurora to bind him with bandages, I wrap my fingers around the hilt of my sword. One movement, one bat of his eyes, and I’m going to put myself between them.
I’ve come across rabid shifters before, have had the unfortunate responsibility of dealing with them when they tear through villages—andvillagers. Aurora might think this one is tame enough, but I’m not even a little bit convinced. And now he’s on the couch. In the parlor. In ourhome.
I clench my teeth as she finishes tying the bandages and settles the quilt back over him.
I’ve got to get him out of here.
Chapter 5
