Page 106 of Spark

“Jaden!” I heard someone call, and it was only a few seconds more before I was hauled to my feet and shaken back to reality. “What the fuck are you doing out here!?”

My breath caught in my lungs as I looked up at Darren’s extremely livid face. I couldn’t find my words. His hands were gripping my upper arms, keeping me steady, but it didn’t stop my body from shaking in absolute terror.

“Where are your bodyguards?!” he shouted, making me wince, and I tried to focus on forming words.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered.

“Look at me,” he ordered, but his gloved hands wrapped around my face, tilting my head up and gave me little room to argue. “Are you hurt?” His eyes scanned wildly up and down my body, searching for injuries until he finally saw the blood seeping through my coat.

“My arm,” I murmured.

And then two more shots reverberated off the trees, making me jump. Darren remained unfazed, his eyes only focused on my arm.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he gently took my arm in his hands. And then he went back to being angry. “Why are you alone? How the fuck did you get out here?” he asked. He was furious. I could feel it coming off his skin and seeping into mine like venom, and I had to fess up to that.

“I s-snuck out,” I mumbled quietly before turning my eyes away, unable to take the heat anymore. Fuck, my arm hurt.

“Goddammit,” he murmured under his breath and pulled me to his chest. My instinct was to hold him tighter, but I could barely move. My eyes looked up toward his shoulder and came into contact with the rifle strung over his back. And that was when I realized Darren was the one who fired the shot. He’d actually saved my life; something I never thought in a million years would ever happen. What the fuck had I done?

“I’m sorry,” I said, my tears now filling my voice as I released my fear through my eyes.

He sighed heavily and then released me.

“I got two more,” I heard another voice say in the distance. It must have been Scott. “Lost the rest when they crossed the river.” That was when I looked over a noticed two more dead wolves laying in the snow.

“We’ll check the area later for more. Right now, I need to get her back. Here, take the dog,” Darren commanded, reaching down for Camaro and handing her to Scott after he’d lifted the dead wolf over his shoulder.

“No,” I replied quietly in protest. I didn’t want to give her up. I was afraid she’d be gone for good.

“Quiet,” Darren ordered sternly, shutting me up without argument. “Put Romero and Alex in my office and find their replacements. I’ll deal with them after I’m done with this one,” he said nodding at me.

I sucked in a breath. I knew I was fucked.

“Come on, we need to take care of your arm. Keep it elevated,” Darren said and began to guide me back to the house. My eyes stayed on Scott who carried Camaro in one arm while the dead wolf laid draped over his shoulder, its bloodied tongue hanging from its mouth.

I didn’t say a word as Darren nearly dragged me back to the house, his fury so evident I shivered because of it. My tears had dried down my face in frozen rivers, and I had a feeling there would be lots more to come. The pain of what was likely to come was far greater than any wolf bite.

39

Trouble

When we got back to the cabin, Darren took me back to our room, the posts of Romero and Alex replaced with two more new faces, ones I didn’t even bother to look at. It would likely just make things worse. Yanking the door open, he nearly threw me inside, and I almost went face first into the carpet if I hadn’t caught myself. Slamming the door behind him, he nearly tore off his own coat and dropped it to the floor. I felt the coward in me come alive as he stalked toward me, eyes like ice that pierced my courage.

“Darren, I’m sorry. Please, I’m sor—”

“Not a word,” he said, his voice deadly calm as he began to gently peel off my coat. I shut my mouth and grimaced as the fabric moved against my stinging skin, and when he softly pulled the sleeve of my bloodied sweater up, my stomach instantly twisted in my cut. The dark imprint of a canine’s bite was torn into my skin, dark bruising surrounding the punctures as blood clotted over them.

Darren sighed and pulled me toward the bathroom before lifting me onto the counter and rummaging through the cabinets for a first-aid kit. He pulled out a bunch of antiseptics, coated his hands in a heavy-duty sanitizer, and ripped some kind of wipe from a packet. Darren then placed his back to me and took my arm between his arm and side and locked me in place.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice almost panicked.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, and then the sting of a thousand bees enveloped my arm as he wiped it down.

I gasped loudly, unable to stop myself from attempting to jerk my arm away from Darren’s grip, but he kept it in place. I pressed my forehead into his shoulder blade as he continued to gently wipe my arm down over and over, cleaning the blood and disinfecting the bite. I didn’t cry, but the pain of Darren cleaning me up had me groaning and biting my lip until I thought that was going to start bleeding too.

Darren sighed again. “One of your puncture wounds is going to need stitches.”

I groaned.

---