Page 5 of Wounded Christmas Wolf
Jace took a few deep breaths and looked up at the leaden sky. He had done the repairs he’d promised the community center. That part of his day had been fun. He loved the chance to feel helpful, useful, to do some real good.
And then the woman ...
He could still see her, a vivid image in his mind’s eye. She had a heart-shaped face with a light spray of freckles across her cheeks and a full, sensual mouth. Brown hair framed her rounded cheekbones, fetchingly slipping in wisps and strands from a clasp holding it back. She had green eyes that were oddly shot through with gold, something he had previously only seen in people of shifter heritage—the few that he had known.
There was no way he was going to walk away from a woman, any woman, being harassed by a guy. But the reaction he’d had to seeing that jerk creeping on her, leaning into her space, whispering into the small round ear half-hidden under her falling strands of brown hair ...
It had been all Jace could do to control his wolf as much as he had. His inner animal wanted to sink its teeth into that guy’s throat, fling him down, make him beg for mercy for the crime of touching her.
Then she flung an arm around his neck, and her scent filled his senses: fresh floral shampoo and the delicate fragrance of her skin. Her lips pressed against his, soft and warm, and for a few instants he had stopped thinking at all.
And then he came back to himself, to the taste of her and the horrifying awareness that he was losing control of his shift.
He had only the dimmest recollection of stumbling outside. He wondered what that had looked like to everyone else.
To her.
It was just as well if she thought he found her kiss revolting. There was no way he ever dared to be close to her again. Not when his wolf was as badly controlled as it was.
He shuddered for a few minutes. Phantom pain ghosted up his side. He was rarely aware of the scar tissue anymore, but he could feel it now, tugging when he twisted or moved at all. The wolf inside him was a tangible pressure.
No, there was no way he could let a mess like this anywhere near a woman like her. If he hurt her ...
He ran his tongue over his teeth again, now fully blunted back to human teeth. The metallic, salty taste lingered, and he ached bitterly with guilt and regret.
He hadalreadyhurt her. If he went near her again, hewould hurt her more—emotionally, physically, he didn’t dare take the chance.
All of him had shifted back except his hands. He rubbed a finger with a slightly pointy-tipped nail across the coarse black-and gray hair on the backs of his hands. Then he dug a pair of old brown gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on.
He’d thought he had gotten past this level of difficulty controlling the outward signs of his shift. He had his wolf on a leash, if barely.
Or he’d thought he did.
Taking a deep breath, he started walking. He couldn’t go back to the community center while Miss Mistletoe was there. Not with his wolf this out of control. And the shelter was closed during the day. With that in mind, he took a slow loop through the back of town.
Pine Junction was a pretty little town, framed by hills and farm country. Jace had come here on a tip from his former CO, Dave, who knew he had been struggling since he got his discharge. Dave had an old Army buddy who used to run a B&B out here for shifter veterans.
But by the time he got here, Jace was already halfway to talking himself out of it. At the shelter, they told him the place was closed anyway; something about the guy’s wife passing away and the B&B shutting down.
He’d decided to stay through the holidays. He had to end up somewhere. Maybe he could find work here, get a place, stick around for a while.
But no one was hiring; the holiday rush of retail and delivery staff had already been accounted for, and other businesses were waiting until after the new year to fill positions. In a small town like this, there weren’t many opportunities. He had already talked to every garage in town about hiring him on as a mechanic, only to be turned down.
Doing handyman work at the community center was a decent gig, even if they couldn’t afford to pay him. There was free food, and it was a little local work for his erratic resume.
Now he might have blown that up too.
But if he had it to do over again, he’d step in again without hesitating. What was the alternative, leaving that poor woman to be creeped on?
He avoided the downtown, with its postcard-picturesque shops and holiday shoppers, instead taking a meandering route through the residential part of town, just walking with no real destination in mind. It was very quiet, with hardly any traffic. His wolf was calming down a little, soothed by the solitude. Low gray clouds threatened snow.
With hardly anyone else around, his attention was drawn by two kids, preteens or young teenagers, crouched on the edge of the road. From their shared red hair, they were probably siblings. The two of them were bent over a bike that had slipped its chain, the boy struggling to get it back on while the girl looked things up on a phone.
“No, that’s not how it’s done. You need to hold down the—the thing there, you’re just going to break it.” When it was clear her brother wasn’t listening to her, she planted her hands on her hips. “Billy!”
“You two need any help?” Jace asked.
He regretted it immediately; in a big city, they probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day, and rightfully so. But here in this small town, they looked at each other and the girl whispered, “It’s the maintenance guy at the community center, he’s okay.”
