Dark Wolf Running (Bloodrunners) (21 page)

“Er, right.” Wyatt started to walk away, then stopped himself and turned around, saying what had just occurred to him before he could think better of it. “But the problem might not be sex, man. It might just be who you’re having it with.” He paused, then added, “Or who you aren’t. You know. Sleeping with.”

The tip of the cigarette gleamed like a demon’s eye as Cian pulled in another long drag. Wyatt braced himself for a smart-ass comeback, but the Runner simply jerked his chin toward Wyatt’s cabin and asked, “You gonna claim her?”

He damn near fell back on his ass.
“What?”

“You gonna claim her?” Cian repeated, his deep voice for once devoid of its sarcastic edge as he slowly exhaled. “Because my advice would be to do it sooner rather than later.”

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, more than a little shocked that he was having this conversation with Cian, of all people. “If I care about her, then I’ve got to do what’s best for her. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

He blinked, cutting a sharp look toward the Irishman. What the hell? Everyone knew Hennessey was a man-whore, rolling from one bed to another. Christ, as far as Wyatt knew, the Runner had never slept with the same woman twice. The idea of him being hung up on one particular female was hard to take in—and yet, Wyatt recognized the shadows lurking in the Runner’s silver eyes.

He’d seen them just that morning, when he’d looked in the mirror.

Chapter 12

A
t the sound of the front door opening, Elise slid her gaze from the sappy TV movie she’d been watching, hoping Wyatt wouldn’t notice that she’d been crying. Then she got a good look at him and her eyes nearly flooded all over again.

“Oh, my God! What the hell happened?” she demanded in a breathless rush, surging to her feet and hurrying toward him. “Why are you bleeding?”

A flat smile twisted the corner of his mouth. “Jeremy and I had an interesting night. But I’m fine.”

Fine? Was he joking?

“You don’t look fine,” she snapped, reaching out with her hands but unsure if she should touch him. His muscular torso was nothing but a soaked field of crimson. “You look like something out of
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre!
”

With a masculine snort, he shoved his hair back from his face and said, “Yeah, I think that’s pretty much what Cian thought when he saw me. But most of it’s not my blood.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she huffed, settling her hands on her hips. “If it’s not yours, then who does it belong to?”

“We ran into a Whiteclaw soldier,” he muttered, running his tongue over the front of his teeth.

Her eyes went wide. “Near the Alley? What was he doing all the way over here?”

“I only know what he told us, which was that he was trying to keep an eye on a woman for someone.” His husky voice was tight with frustration and what was probably a lot of pain. “But before I could get any more out of him, Sebastian Claymore blew his fucking head off with a rifle.”

“What was Sebastian Claymore doing on Bloodrunner land?” she asked, eyeing the angry claw marks in his shoulder, her stomach twisting at the thought of how badly the wound must be hurting him.

“That’s the weird part,” he rasped. “He claimed he made the shot to help us. That he’s worried about the direction his uncle and brother are taking his pack. He also said that his brother especially has an issue with the Silvercrest, but wouldn’t go into details.”

She locked her gaze back on his. “Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, watching her through the heavy weight of those long, incredible lashes. “I just know that I don’t want you worrying about it.”

Elise gave him what she was pretty sure was a slack-jawed look of disbelief. “Seriously, Wyatt? How can I not worry?”

He shook his head with a hard, curt movement, and she had to tilt her own head back as he closed the distance between them. “Because nothing’s different than it was before I came home tonight. We still don’t know anything for certain. Hell, Sebastian could be pissed at his brother for any number of reasons and be using us as a way to get rid of him. I don’t know the guy well enough to trust him. All I know is that I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. So promise me you’re not going to obsess about this.”

She wanted to tell him that it was a ridiculous request. Of course she was going to obsess about it. How could she not, when they were talking about one of the bastards who could very well be responsible for ruining her life? God, there was a part of her that just wanted to grab Wyatt’s keys, run out and climb into his Jeep, and drive straight to the Whiteclaw’s pack town of Hawkley. That wanted to confront this Harris Claymore face-to-face and hear exactly what he had to say for himself. Would she know if she saw him in the flesh that he was one of the ones? Would she be able to tell? Would more pieces of the puzzle start coming back to her?

“El?” Wyatt’s deep voice jerked her from her troubled thoughts, and she blinked him back into focus.

“Sorry. I was just—”

“Don’t,” he grated, cutting her off. “Don’t think about it.”

She was surprised to feel her lips curving in a wry grin. “You’re so damn bossy.”

“I know,” he said with a rough sigh, sounding exhausted. “And I’ll grovel later. I promise. Right now, I’m rank and need to clean up.”

She bit her lip, feeling awful for getting so wrapped up in her own drama, when he was standing there bleeding out right in front of her. “Do you need Jillian to look at your shoulder for you?”

“Naw. I can already feel it healing.”

“Then come on,” she said firmly, grabbing his uninjured arm and leading him through the cabin. “Let’s go to the bathroom, where I can help you get sorted.”

“You don’t mind?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wyatt, you’ve been hurt. Of course I don’t mind. I’m not that much of a bitch.”

“You’re not a bitch at all, El. I just wasn’t sure how you were at dealing with shit like this and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not going to pass out on you or anything. Blood doesn’t really bother me.” Once she got him to the bathroom, she let go of his arm and asked him where he kept his first-aid kit, then pulled the plastic box out from the under the sink and started going through it for the things that she needed.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll just grab a quick shower, and then you can patch me up. Okay?”

She blinked as she swung her gaze toward him, her heart skipping a beat as she watched him undo the top button on his jeans. “Oh, uh, yeah, that’s a good idea,” she rambled. “I’ll just, um, wait out...there.”

“Suit yourself,” he drawled with a crooked smile, as if he were perfectly comfortable stripping down with her standing right there, watching him.

Elise didn’t bother shutting the bathroom door behind her as she fled, wanting to hear him in case he needed her. But she also didn’t linger too closely, trying to sneak a peek. Instead, she paced the hallway as she listened to the water rattling in the pipes, trying to think about anything other than how the Runner’s breathtaking body must look under the hot spray of water, all those hard, sculpted muscles sleek and wet, firm to the touch.

Trying not to think about him, huh? Yeah, great job I’m doing with that one.

“I’m decent now,” he called out, snapping her out of her thoughts again.

She smoothed her hands over her tank top and jeans as she made her way back to the door, then nearly swallowed her tongue when she got a clear look at him standing on the bathroom rug. He was nude except for the white towel wrapped around his lean hips, droplets of water still clinging to his burnished skin as he lifted his arms, biceps bulging as he shoved his wet hair back from his face.

“Um, just sit on the side of the tub for me,” she practically croaked, trying hard not to do anything embarrassing, like drool all over his sexy ass. Reaching for the antiseptic wipes she’d set out on the counter, Elise kept her focus firmly on his shoulder as she started to clean the wound, determined not to think about how big and beautiful and bare he was. Or how incredible his hard-muscled thighs looked as she stood between them.

“That should do it,” she murmured a few minutes later, carefully covering the raw wounds with ointment and then adding a little to the cut on his cheek. None of the wounds were still bleeding, thanks to his rapid healing abilities, so she didn’t bother covering them with bandages, knowing the fresh air would do them good. But they were probably going to scar.

When she said as much to Wyatt, he lifted one of his dark brows, no doubt thinking she was being ridiculous, seeing as how his muscular torso was littered with battle scars. “If they do, then they’ll be in good company,” he offered with a smirk.

“At least scars look good on a man,” she murmured. “Not so much on a woman.”

She watched the muscles in his gorgeous face tighten, his dark brows pulling together as he mulled over her words. “El, you—”

“I should get to bed,” she blurted, interrupting him. If she didn’t put some space between them now, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him...and it would only end in disaster. Nothing had changed since the last time he’d touched her. Not a single goddamn thing.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Reaching out, Wyatt brought her face back toward him with a grasp on her chin. “Are you scarred from the rape? From what they did to you?”

She swallowed thickly and somehow managed a jerky nod, her face feeling as if it were on fire.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a gentle voice that was brimming with emotion. “They might have scarred you, sweetheart, but they sure as hell didn’t break you. I think you’re the—”

“Wyatt, just stop.” The sharp laugh that came from her lips was brittle. “God, this is a such a bad id—”

He cut her off again. “There’s no way you can doubt how much I want you,” he argued, the gentle tone suddenly replaced by one that was rough and clipped as he moved back to his feet. “I hate the pain that caused them, but I don’t give a shit about your scars, Elise. They’re a part of you and I think you’re fucking perfect.” He drew in a ragged breath, pulling his hand down his face, then dropped it to his side. The stare he locked her in was deep and measuring, as if he were trying to see beneath her skin, burrowing his way into her secrets. Quietly, he asked, “But that’s not what this is really about, is it? This isn’t just about your scars. What else aren’t you telling me?”

“Drop it, Wyatt.”

“No.” She watched the muscle that started to pulse in his jaw, mesmerized by its rhythm. “I’m sorry, but that’s not an option, baby. I’m not backing down. Push me. Scream at me. Cut me down if you have to. But I’m not walking away this time.”

Frustration sharpened her words, her voice caustic with fear. “I’m not one of those women who feels the need to pour all my bullshit out for everyone to listen to. Not even to my friends.”

“
That’s
bullshit.” He vibrated with a raw, sexual frequency that pulled on her and was so damn hard to resist. “We’re a hell of a lot more than friends, El.”

She took a quick breath, reeling. “I...I don’t let my lovers get this involved in my life, either.”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t have lovers,” he corrected her, the guttural words reeking of possession. “You have
me.
”

“For what? An affair? You said you wanted to sleep with me. That you wanted us to fuck, Wyatt. That’s it!”

The scowl that hardened his face would have made a weaker woman cower in fear. “Yeah, well, I’ve been known to say a lot of shit. You should ignore most of it.”

“I think you’re just prevaricating.”

“Damn it, El. Don’t you get it? It’s not that I don’t
want
to give you more. It’s the goddamn irrefutable fact that you
deserve
more. You deserve a man who can give you
everything.
”

“And that man isn’t you?” she asked through trembling lips, feeling as if something were breaking apart inside her that couldn’t ever be put back together.

He shook his head, his mouth a hard, flat line. “No, baby, it isn’t. No matter how badly I wish that it was.”

Her breath hitched, tears burning at the backs of her eyes. “Then what
are
you willing to offer me?”

“My body,” he rasped, his deep voice stripped down to raw, blistering emotion. “Whatever you want from it. It’s not enough, but it’s yours.”

Elise stared deep inside him, using every ounce of female intuition she possessed, and realized with a jolt that she wasn’t the only one hiding things beneath the skin. Not just secrets, but an actual history that left you broken and raw. God, they were more alike than she’d realized. Not that she thought he’d suffered from the same kind of violation that she had. But there was something there. Something that had made him bleed emotion and left an internal scar. It shadowed the way he saw himself, just like her past shadowed her. Affected what he thought he could have. What he thought he deserved. She wanted to ask him what it was, but knew without any doubt that he wouldn’t tell her, just like she wouldn’t open her veins and spill her blood secrets to him.

“Wyatt,” she whispered, just as her tear-drenched eyes went hot with longing. He groaned in response, pulling her close, the determined look in his own eyes stealing her breath. He ripped her shirt off over her head, tossing it to the floor while those dark, beautiful eyes stayed locked with her wide ones. Then he yanked her close again, crushing her against his chest, and his lips touched hers. Possessed them. He claimed her mouth with a kiss that was raw and hungry and flavored with lust, his body communicating its need through the feverish heat of his skin, making her burn. She loved it. Couldn’t get enough of it. The lifesaving heat was staving off the cold that tried so hard to freeze her down as he unhooked the front clasp on her bra, his big, callused hands shaking as he pushed aside the cups.

“Christ, you are so beautiful,” he groaned, lowering his head. His breath was warm and damp as he nuzzled his face between her quivering breasts, then licked her, the seductive rasp of his tongue painting sensation across her scarred skin as he lapped his way to her nipple. He wasn’t necessarily gentle as he took the tight tip between his lips and sucked, working it against the roof of his mouth, but she didn’t want him to be. This, the way he was touching her, tasting her, was too perfect to want it to be anything other than the way that it was.