Page 24 of Shadows of the Soul

I groaned and pressed my forehead into the comforter. He was right. But stripping to my panties in front of the Terror of Tennessee seemed like a bad idea, even if he was rocking the naturalist life. Shifters didn’t find an issue in their nudity. “Fine,” I gritted out and lifted my stomach. The wound on my calf stung every time I moved. I wasn’t standing again. My hands popped open the button and slid the zipper. I wiggled my hips and peeled them down my body. Half way over my butt I got stuck. I either stood and risked hurting myself or asked for help. I tensed and prepared myself for the agony.

A firm hand pushed on my spine. “Stay down, I’ll help.”

I rolled my eyes. Not that he could see, but the sentiment was the same. His warm hands curved around my hip bones and he pulled. “As much as I appreciate seeing your ass in leather,” he grumbled, “it’s a nightmare to get off.”

“It’s not meant for easy access.”

“Then you shouldn’t look so damn sexy in it.”

He tugged harder. I cried out as the leather tore into shreds and I was relieved of my pants.

He grabbed the pot and slathered it onto my wound. Tears bloomed in my eyes and I clenched my jaw to keep from crying out. It burned like a bitch. But by morning I would walk without a hobble, and in a week, the scar would look like the injury happened months ago. Of course, that wasn’t all down to the healing balm.

“Breathe,” Hudson murmured.

“I know how to goddamn breathe, you overgrown house cat.”

He chuckled. “I see being injured makes you tetchy.”

“No, I’m as happy as a pig in shit while it feels like you are holding a naked flame to my skin.”

“All done,” he said, rising from the bed. I glared at his back as he put the balm on the drainer and washed his hands in the sink. He darted into the bathroom with a handful of clothing and returned dressed in distressed jeans and a checked flannel shirt. My eyelids drooped and my vision got blurry. My heart jumped in my chest. The balm forced sleep. I was about to pass out. Sleep was the best healer, but I couldn’t sleep now, not with him here. I’d be vulnerable. I dragged my head from the comforter and flopped down again.

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Sleep, Cora. You are safe.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The ghosts of the past can’t hurt you.

Daylight streamed through my apartment window as I checked my watch. Neil would be here soon. I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time. It was date night, and I was dressed to kill. Tonight I would reveal all of my secrets to the shifter that had stolen my heart. The doorbell sounded.

I hurried to the front door, my heels clacking on the tiled floor. I threw it open to find two strangers on my doorstep.

“Cora Roberts?” a thick and burly dude with a shaved head asked.

I tilted my head. “Who wants to know?”

“That’s her,” the smaller guy muttered. He flung something in my face and a sharp pain exploded across my left temple. The world spun, and I blinked awake to find myself in a chair. I jerked my limbs. Correction, I was tied to a chair. Big and burly stood in front of me.

“Good. You’re awake,” he stated, stepping out of my line of sight. Neil coughed and gasped as the smaller guy punched him in the chest. He was also tied to a chair.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s simple, you give us the winning lottery numbers for this weekend, and we let you and your boyfriend go,” the bigger dude stated.

I stared in horror. “I can’t read the future, only the past.”

I grasped for my power, heat bloomed in my chest. Tendrils of magic stirred, then dissipated. I glanced down finding a large bloodstone laying against my chest secured with a crude piece of string around my neck. They’d blocked my power. I was a sitting duck. My beast raised her head. No, I couldn’t let her out. Not now, not ever.

“I don’t believe you,” the burly guy answered.

Neil spat blood onto the floor. “Give them what they want, Cor.”

“I can’t.”

He shook his head. It morphed and changed as I watched Neil transform before me in horror. I closed my eyes and trembled. The world twisted again. My wrists ached as I looked up, finding them shackled by metal cuffs to the ceiling. My toes barely touching the floor. I shivered from the cold, my clothing long gone.

---