CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

Adam soaked up the perfection of her scent. Her skin filled his senses, her breath was beauty. He licked at her neck and she laughed, a sound made weak from effort.

Then the richness of her blood hit him anew. The blood he’d only ever scented through her skin before, now leaking from her wounded body.

The seed of his human mind was buried deep under the skin of wolf thought. Her wounds were severe, but unless he could shift, he couldn’t tell how bad. And he certainly couldn’t do anything for her without his hands.

He closed his eyes and pictured himself as a man. Tried to hold the image of himself from looking in the mirror that morning. But just like when he tried to order himself to sleep, the harder he searched for his humanity, the deeper it hid.

Simone ran her fingers into his fur and scratched at him. A ball of anger filled his belly and chest, which only drove the man inside him further into the darkness. Rage fed only his wolf; it starved his human.

His only solace was that there was every chance they’d die together. To lose his companion once had been hard enough. But if that bitch called fate killed his true mate, then he knew he’d die soon after. By choice.

Simone held him close, and to his surprise, she started singing. Just a light crooning, a sweet little melody made irresistible by the sexy rasping of her voice. It was so soft he doubted a regular human would hear it, but it was a symphony to his wolf ears.

He closed his eyes and laid his head on her chest, letting the music of her song and her body fill him. His rage at the unfairness of life eased away from him, and he slowed his breathing, ready for whatever came after.

He took comfort from the sensation of Simone still moving beneath him. The cool of the ground against him. The soft feel of his mate’s nails, scratching against the smooth skin of his back.

He sat bolt upright as the truth hit him. Simone’s voice had worked its magic again. He’d shifted without even realizing.

“Little one!” He patted her face and she stirred, looking up at him through half-closed eyes.

“Hey there, asshole. Thought I’d never see you again.”

“Wait here a second.”

“Please?” The edge of panic in her voice nearly sliced him in two. “Don’t leave me.”

“If I don’t, you’ll die.”

“And if you do?”

“You might not.”

She swallowed, and a fresh stream of tears ran from her eyes. “Then stay. Let me die in your arms.”

“No!” He didn’t mean to scare her, but she had to understand how vital it was. “I will be back in ten seconds.”

He pried her hand loose from his hair and ran as quickly as his wounds allowed, back to where his cast-off jeans had landed. Wadding them up as he ran, he made it back to her side and pressed the bundle to her belly.

“I’m so sorry, Simone. This is going to hurt like hell.”

He hooked his arms under her frame and lifted her, pressing the wadded jeans into his own belly wound, and held her hard against himself, trying to staunch both wounds in one hit. Simone winced, but didn’t cry out, filling him with a fresh burst of pride for his beautiful warrior woman.

His wounds were almost as bad as hers, but there was no thought of rest or recovery. His only stop on the journey back to the car was to gather up his shirt and tie it across her thigh wound.

Back at the car, he bundled her across the back seat and grabbed his cell phone, calling the hospital to prepare them. Thankfully, the car started first time.

Adam gunned the engine and reached back to grasp Simone’s hand. “Hold on, beautiful. This will be a rough ride.”

* * * *

He was right. It was a hell of a drive back to town. Simone kept drifting lower, toward the blackness of sleep, only to be pulled back into some form of consciousness by Adam asking her questions.

“Little one, what’s your blood type?”

“Uh…”

“Please, beautiful.”

Her mouth felt like socks. Not the cute little toe socks in the pretty colors. Kind of, the ones where you had a little bobble thing up around the heel. She maybe still had a pair of those back home. Like a canary yellow, or a peach. But no, her mouth didn’t feel like those socks. More like a basketball player with athlete’s—

“Simone. Stay with me.”

“Hunh?”

“Your blood type?”

“Uh… A positive?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Sweet. Thanks.”

A minute later, or maybe an hour, he came to a screeching halt. She heard his voice, and a couple of others, but they were speaking in some weird language, and it was all buzzing and hissing. Maybe she’d been kidnapped by aliens. Hell, if there were shifters, why couldn’t there be aliens?

The car door opened and a hundred hands grabbed her, hauling her from the back seat. She seemed to be flying for a moment before landing on a skinny little bed. A bed that rolled. The sky was moving. Or falling. Then lights and darkness and lights and darkness and…

Nothing.