He shook his head before she could advance more than a few steps. “Like hell. Sit.”
She flinched. He narrowed his gaze, demanding compliance with just a look.
She gripped the back of the chair and returned the stare. She straightened her spine, not letting him get the best of her. Fuck him. Who the hell did he think he was? Just because he smelled like sex on a stick and made her knees weak and her heart pound didn’t give him the right to order her around.
On a dime, he changed his facial expression, a grin spreading across his lips. He laughed. “Well, aren’t you stubborn? Sit, Kathleen.” He nodded toward the chair again. “I’m not used to such defiance. Tell me what happened in the hall. Please.” His voice was firm even though he’d lightened up a smidge.
Kathleen rounded the chair and resumed her spot. If he was going to stop growling at her, he wasn’t so bad. When she looked back into his eyes, he gave a small snort, clearly pleased with her obedience.
Her palms were sweaty and she wiped them on her short cotton skirt, gripping the material and balling it up in her fists. Too much leg was showing, and she quickly released the dress to smooth it out as far as it would reach, not even to her knees.
Why on earth had she ever thought this dress was perfect for this night?
“The hall?” He raised one eyebrow in question.
Kathleen gulped and opened her dry lips. She licked them slowly, trying to find a brain cell to use.
She watched as the man who seemed to fill the entire room with his physique and his personality waited for her to speak.
“There was a guy at the meat market . . . party, I mean. He thought to claim me—”
“Why? You aren’t even his,” he interrupted.
She jerked. How the hell would he know that? “He, um, he seemed to think I was. Though I quickly surmised he was quite wrong myself.” Surmised?
What’s coming out of my mouth?
“Go on.” His face went back to frustrated. He didn’t look as sexy with his brow furrowed like that.
“He snuck up behind me at the party, grabbed my hand, and dragged me into the hall.”
“Are you serious? Who is this guy?” Tall and handsome stood and began to pace. He ran his fingers through his messy blond locks again, making himself more appealing and sexy than before.
“No idea. Marcus something. He didn’t give me his last name.”
“Go on,” he demanded again, pausing his frantic pacing to stare at her. “You popped in here as though the hounds of hell were on your heels.”
Now her entire mouth felt too dry to speak. If he reacted this way to the first half of the saga, how would he react to the second half? She needed a drink of water. She wasn’t about to ask for one though. He didn’t strike her as the kind of person she should interrupt. “He insisted I was his, mumbled something about my sister, and then tried to kiss me.”
“He kissed you?” The man barked, his voice cracking at a higher pitch than he was capable of. He leaned forward, his neck craning as though he’d misheard her words.
“Sort of,” she mumbled, biting her lip. “He tried. His breath reeked, and I kneed him in the groin and then ran down the hall.”
Tall, dark, and handsome tipped his head back and chuckled again. “Good girl. I hope you maimed him.”
“I don’t think so. He was chasing me. That’s why I slipped into this room. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” She stood again, thinking to escape. The air in the room was filled with his scent, and she quickly lost the capacity to reason under the strange spell this man cast on her.
In a flash, he was in front of her, pressing her into the chair with his hands on her shoulders.
She gasped, fear running down her spine. Her memory lingered on the strange man-child in the hall who’d attempted to subdue her minutes ago. Somehow the creepy Marcus seemed to be closer to twelve years old than an adult.
He released her just as fast and sat on the coffee table in front of her. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Don’t leave yet.” He looked at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “It might not be safe,” he added.
Was this man any safer than the last?
It seemed more prudent to sit still than to argue with him right now. At least he wasn’t currently restraining her in any way.
Kathleen leaned back. She felt crowded by Mr. Gorgeous. He took up so damn much space. The room was huge, but he filled it.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Here. About fifteen minutes away. You?”
He didn’t answer. Why were all the questions directed toward her alone?
“You haven’t told me how old you are.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action.
“Why? What does it matter to you?” She felt as defiant as he seemed to think she was. She didn’t want to answer any more of his questions. He’d told her nothing about himself. Was this a job interview?
He inhaled long and slow and then stood. He spoke to the room at large. “Great. Just great. I avoid wolf crowds for all these years, and some tiny pixy half my age chooses this room of all the rooms in the building to pop into and suck the air out of my life. Ain’t life full of surprises?”
What the fuck? What was he rambling on about?
He was the most infuriating man on the planet.
“Be right back,” he stated as he walked toward the door. “Don’t move an inch.” He turned toward her, narrowing his gaze once more as though his look alone usually demanded no argument from most people.
She was inclined to agree.
He twisted the lock, opened the door, and stepped into the hall, shutting himself out of the room.
Seconds ticked by. A minute. Two. Kathleen sat in silence, waiting. Because he said so. And it pissed her off. Who was this man?
Finally, the door opened once again, making her jumpy. She exhaled when she saw who it was, not sure if she should be relieved or depressed to find the giant blond man reentering her space.
“I think the coast is clear. No one’s out there now. Whoever this Marcus is, I guess you sent him running.” He stepped toward her and handed her a card. “Here’s my card. Call if you have any problems. I’ll try to figure out who accosted you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels as she took the card. “Are you with your parents?”
“Yes,” she whispered, somehow feeling about five years old.
“Well, go back to them right now. Don’t take any chances. Got it?”
“I’m not a child.” She felt the need to defend herself.
He smiled, a condescending look that could cut someone to the quick. “To me you are.”
What’s that supposed to mean?
Kathleen stood and wasted no time stomping toward the exit. She hated acting like a brat, but fuck him and the horse he rode in on.
He was faster and beat her to the door, slamming his hand into the wood to hold it closed before she could turn the handle. “Kathleen, I’m not kidding. Do I need to escort you back to your family? Or can’t you follow that simple instruction without defying me?” He stood an inch from her. His body heat radiated toward her even without direct contact. She felt like she might swoon like some heroine in a historical romance novel.
Her reaction to this man infuriated her. His words made her want to slap him. His fine body squeezed the air out of her, leaving her mouth dry and her tongue tied.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to be kissed. Not just kissed, but mauled . . . by the stranger who’d just treated her like a toddler. Her pussy grew damp just with his proximity. And she hated her reaction. What the hell was the matter with her?
“I think I can handle it from here. Thanks,” she ground out. She stepped back to catch her breath when he didn’t move.
His huge palm still held the door closed, blocking her exit.
Several heartbeats passed before he spoke again, calmer this time. “I’m only trying to help. I can’t be sure this Marcus character is truly gone. Please be careful. And use my card if you ever need . . . anything.”
Why would she ever call him? It was absurd to even consider such an idea. She squeezed the card in her fist. It wadded and crinkled in her grip. Her sweaty palms would ruin it in no time at all.
“Goodbye, Kathleen,” he muttered as he opened the door.
She stepped quickly into the hall, not looking back as the door shut behind her, closing off the strangest event in her life. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder. Had it been an illusion? Had she really just spent half an hour alone with the strange sexy god of a man who hadn’t given her his name or answered any questions about himself?
She glanced down at the wrinkled card in her palm.
Gabriel Albertson, M.D.
The
Gabriel Albertson? The elusive son of the owners of this sprawling property where the gathering of all North American wolves was held every two years?
She’d heard of him. She’d just never met him.
A chill sent a shiver down her back. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she hurried down the hall to find her sister and parents before Marcus could get the better of her.
Now
Her hand hurt like bloody hell. Bloody . . . not just a British expression. She was bloody. The towel that was likely dirty with dog shit and piss was doing little to slow the steady seep of blood from the gash on the side of her hand. The waiting room was quiet, but then, it was Savoy, Arkansas, on a Thursday night. A population of 3,500 or so odd folk didn’t much support a bustling emergency room, but seeing it was the only one for almost two hours in any direction also meant it was a well-visited establishment—apparently just not on Thursday nights. Didn’t mean she hadn’t been waiting for well over an hour. People were starting to stare. The blood had soaked through the towel enough that she was frightening the few other folk who sat in the waiting room. Blood was a horrifying thing after all. She could be fixin’ to bleed the plague all over them for all they knew.
“Bailey Trent.” The older woman standing at the door looked around the room, settling her gaze on a young man with a rag held to his forehead.
“I’m Bailey.” She held her hand up as she stood and approached the woman.
“Sorry, dear. Thought it was a man’s name.” She looked at Bailey with genial amusement.
“Get that a lot, but I got boobs and everything. . ." Her voice died away on a nervous chuckle. She never had been good at acting normal when she was nervous.
The woman smiled and almost burst into laughter as Bailey’s cheeks burned. “Ready?”
Of course she was ready. The blood was about two seconds away from dripping from the nearly saturated towel that was wound around her hand. Didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. “Yep.”
“Sorry for the wait. We only have two docs on staff tonight, and they’ve both been tied up. Traffic accident over near the big bend on Highway 45. A few casualties.”
“It’s no problem.”
They were walking slowly toward one of the small exam rooms, and Bailey’s heart was starting to flutter in nervousness. She didn’t enjoy hospitals, not that anyone did, and this trip likely meant sutures. That meant needles. She could do without those too. The moment they passed into the room, the nurse indicated a small table and chair, much like the one she used to sit in at grade school. There was a swivel stool on casters sitting near it.
“So, tell me what happened.”
“Dog food can lid. Just sliced clean into me.”
“Your tetanus up-to-date?”
“Good question, and I haven’t a clue.”
“That means no to me, dear. Let’s have a look, shall we?” The nurse slipped on a pair of latex gloves, and after she moved the swivel stool into place, she sat facing Bailey. She slowly unwrapped the towel from Bailey’s hand as Bailey winced. The moment the towel was pulled away, the laceration went from being barely discernable to a crimson line to a weeping gash running up the top of her hand from between her thumb and her first finger to nearly her wrist. “Well, well, now that’s how you do a cut, ’idn’t it?” She smiled tenderly at Bailey, and Bailey couldn’t help but smile back—one of the few smiles she’d had recently. The woman just had the odd gift of putting her at ease.
“Stitches?” Bailey could feel her face muscles scrunching at nothing more than the idea flitting through her mind.
“Not up to me. That’s for the doctor to say. But . . . I wouldn’t hold out much hope of getting away without any.” The lady had a southern drawl, as did most of the folk around their Ozark Mountain town. It was an odd mix of people for sure. A lot of people came to the area to vacation during the warm months, and still others migrated southward to their forested and hilly world in their retirement years. Then there were the locals. Nurse Lady sounded like a local, but Bailey didn’t recognize her. Course, Bailey had been local since she was five, and she’d adopted something of a southern twang herself, so who was she to complain. But the locals worried her. They knew things. They had memories; memories Bailey wished didn’t exist.
“Well, maybe they can just glue it closed—Band-Aids, you ’spose?”
The nurse just chuckled at her but didn’t respond. Bailey wasn’t holding much hope given the humoring response nurse lady had given her. She stood. “I’m Marie, by the way. Let’s get this rinsed up, so we can see what we got.”
Ten minutes later and Nurse Marie had flushed the slice, pulling back gently on one side of the laceration to open up the cut and rinse the deep flap of skin that was filleted open. That left Bailey cursing under her breath, but the woman took her
fuck
in stride. She wrapped it tightly with a thick patch of gauze and bandages.
“See, good as new. Don’t even think I need to see the doctor.” That earned Bailey another chuckle.
When Marie stood, she smiled at Bailey again. “Doc’ll be in soon. They’re playin’ catch up, but I don’t ’spect it’ll be much longer now.”
Then Bailey was alone. She’d borrowed her coworker’s cell phone when the sweet gal had offered to drive her to the hospital. She’d called her mom, wondering the moment she heard the worry in her voice why she’d thought it was a good idea.