Page 53 of Feral

Fraser tensed and then clutched his side.

He was going to refuse it, I could see him about to say it, but he was wounded and I was exhausted from not sleeping last night and the excitement of running for my life.

“We’ll take it,” I said.

Fraser’s gaze swung to me, eyes wide.

“It’s one night, you can deal.”

He huffed out a breath.

“Fine, we’ll take the damn room.”

The woman was now definitely not enamored of Fraser and checked us in so fast that she skipped the usual spiel about room charges and what not. The room number was on the key cards she slid to us and then she was gone.

“You’re a real charmer,” I said, slipping the key into my bag.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you ever?”

I’d said it under my breath but the damn Werewolf hearing meant that I might as well have been shouting it.

He didn’t say anything though, just glared at me before stalking off toward the elevator. As I followed him, I noticed a small shop in the lobby that sold, among other things, some first aid items.

“You go on, I’m going to get a few things for that stab wound,” I said.

“Ya shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve got the gun and I won’t take too long.”

“I don’t think I need anythin’.”

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I also need something to sleep in unless you’d like me cuddling up next to you in my underwear.”

I’m not sure exactly what I expected. Perhaps a blush, or a disgruntled murmur. Fraser leaning toward me with a hungry glint in his eyes wasn’t even on my list of possibilities. I could almost feel the heat in his gaze as he glanced down my body, as if he were imagining the picture I’d just painted for him.

“Don’t be long,” he finally growled at me before turning away and stabbing his thumb at the elevator button. “And get somethin’ for that cut on yer head.”

My feet didn’t want to move at first as my mind tried to shove aside Fraser’s reaction. He was so damn confusing. Half the time, he acted like he didn’t want to be around me, and the other half like he wanted to devour me. And, I hated to admit that my own body was having a similar whiplash.

It has to be the bite. I’m just going to have to be careful and self-controlled. Figuring out who attacked us and their connection to the artifact will be an excellent distraction.

My face was still flushed when I walked into the shop and began collecting some band aids for my cut and disinfectant. I was about to get the self-stick gauze pads but then I thought of his fur and wondered how in the world I was going to bandage him up.

Maybe some gauze that I can wrap round him and then tape?

That brought up images of his midnight fur soft under my hands, of touching his bare body in wolf form and my stomach flipped.

Calm down! Imagine that you’re a nurse and you’ve got to help your patient…who just happens to be a hot Werewolf…and I’m going to be tending to his wound and…oh dear this isn’t working.

I took a deep breath that did nothing to banish the now torrid images of bandaging up Fraser’s wounds turning into something far more illicit. It was obvious I wouldn’t be able to think about this rationally at the moment, so I just dumped some things into the basket I carried and acted as if it were nothing at all. The shop had some souvenirs in one section and I found a large sleep shirt with the name of the town across the chest. Not exactly what I was hoping for but far better than nothing.

As I made my way out of the shop, the back of my neck itched with the feeling of eyes on me. I turned around slowly, trying to discover the source of the discomfort. But there was no one there, just the same woman behind the desk and the same clerk in the shop.

Just leftover nerves I guess.

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