“I can walk,” Izzy said, as Luke carried her through the long, twisting passageways of the pack’s hideout. Actually, she’d probably have to crawl, but she’d never admit that to him. “Put me down.”
“No. I like you right where you are,” Luke said. Despite her wiggling, he never faltered, his strides long-limbed and deliberate.
Holding on to her dignity by a thread, she decided to ignore the warmth of his hand pressing against her abdomen, and the way his thumb kept stroking the back of her knee, raising goose bumps. “Um, where are we going?”
A series of electric safety lights lit the way, their exposed cords anchored to the walls with metal clips. Substantial, carved wood doors, like something out of the Lord of the Rings movies, broke up the cold gray walls. Several of those doors stood ajar and curious faces peered out.
Two girls in their late teens walked toward them, their mouths hanging open. For a moment, their astonishment made Izzy think she still wore nothing but one of Luke’s long-sleeve tees. Thankfully, when Sarah came to re-stitch her arm, she’d brought a soft pair of drawstring pants. Otherwise Izzy might be giving everyone a show.
“Alpha,” they muttered as he carried her past them.
He acknowledged them with a grunted “Girls.”
More doors ahead of and behind them opened. Hushed whispers, like dry leaves blowing across pavement, filled the corridor.
“People are staring at us,” she whispered, as they passed an archway that opened into a large alcove-like room. Bookshelves lined the far wall; an over-stuffed couch and several huge chairs filled the space. Rissa’s sister Daphne, her Barbie-like friend, and two other weres watched them pass.
“A pack is a nosy thing. You’ll get used to it.” He nodded and smiled at an older couple standing in front of an open door, receiving another murmured round of “Alpha.”
A group of young men jogged through an intersecting corridor ahead of them. Boisterous laughter echoed in their wake.
“Does everyone live here?”
“No,” he said, tightening his grip on her as they turned down a smaller passage. How big was this place? “Like I told you before, this is our safe house. A few of the older pack members who’ve lost their mates live here all the time, but everyone else has a home somewhere in the county.” A growl entered his voice, vibrating along her side where their bodies touched. “When it became obvious you’d been attacked, we called everyone in.”
Ignore the wolfy noises. You are not afraid. Yeah, now if her adrenal glands could get the memo and stop sending her heart rate into overdrive every five seconds, that’d be great.
“So, where are we going?” she asked again.
“The kitchen,” Luke said. “To get you some decent food.” On cue, her stomach growled. He slid his eyes to her. “Yeah, I heard that.”
Of course he did. Probably smelled it, too.
Grumpily, she said, “Well, I wouldn’t be so hungry if you’d let me eat the food Sarah brought.” Her mouth watered thinking of the tofu and veggie scramble.
Luke grimaced and she felt him shudder. “In no way was that...stuff food. It looked like lumpy children’s clay. And it smelled worse.”
She huffed. “What am I supposed to eat then?”
They turned left down another passage perfumed with the smell of baked goods, coffee, and roasting meats. Luke paused outside a set of double doors. What he said next dropped her empty stomach through the floor.
“Meat, Isabelle. Time for you to eat like a werewolf.”
* * *
If Luke didn’t have the benefit of a werewolf’s nose, he might have taken Isabelle’s silence for agreement. But he was a wolf, and could smell the disgust, horror, and most of all, anger pulsing off her in steady waves.
He pushed through the dining hall’s steel doors and she tensed even more. Numerous packmates called out greetings as he carried her through the large, cozy room of mismatched furniture.
“Put me down,” she said quietly through gritted teeth, a deep blush spreading across her face.
“No.”
When she growled at him—albeit in a human way—he barreled through the kitchen’s swinging doors. Three males, too young to even drive yet, froze in the act of raiding one of the refrigerators. Their nostrils flared and their eyes widened. He didn’t have to tell them to beat it. Nice to see the younger generation wasn’t stupid enough to ignore the signs of two dominant wolves about to fight. Hell, they moved so fast he made a mental note to sign them up for the high school track team.
Luke strode to the big, sturdy table set against the wall. After scooting a chair out with a foot, he set Isabelle on it. “Don’t move, sugar.” He grabbed a tablecloth from a cabinet and laid it on another chair before propping his mate’s injured leg on it. “How’s that?”
She didn’t answer.
“Isabelle?”
Face pale and sweating, she smelled sourly of panic and looked like she might vomit again. But before he could ask another question, she straightened. Seeming to grow in size, she glared at him. “I told you before, I don’t eat meat. What do you mean I have to eat like a werewolf?”
Trying not to show how pleased he was at her quick turnaround, he pointedly looked at her damaged and emaciated body. “Do I really need to spell it out?”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Apparently so.”
“Fine. These wounds on your hands and feet are nuisances. Minor. Or at least they should have been. They’re nothing for a lycanthrope to heal. Hell, even the cuts on your head and leg from the crash are just scrapes to us. One shift or a few hours’ time would have taken care of them for a healthy shifter. You shifted twice. Yet, you’re healing human-slow. Maybe slower. A vegetarian diet can’t satisfy your body’s needs, Isabelle.”
“People do it all the—”
He ran his fingers over the pronounced edge of the collarbone peeking out from her shirt. She swiped at him but missed.
“Human people, sugar. You’re not human. You’re a werewolf. No amount of soy is ever going to cut it for you. You surpassed underweight a long time ago. You could be an extra in a movie about famine victims.”
She scowled and looked away from him. Gently, he tipped her face to meet his gaze. “Slowly but surely, you’re doing exactly what your sister did. You’re killing yourself, Isabelle.”
She jerked as if he’d struck her.
“If you want to heal,” he said, “if you want to survive, you’re going to have to eat animal protein.”
Isabelle’s hand drifted up to rub at her left shoulder. Fear and disgust saturated the kitchen like black smoke. Tears filled her eyes, but they didn’t fall. Staring past him, she vibrated with tension. Her delicate features twitched as if she were carrying on a silent argument in her head.
Luke watched the tips of her fingers turning white as they pressed into her shoulder. What had Freddie said? “There were a lot of nightmares...they have scars.” That shoulder had a burn scar.
Blood rocketed through his veins. He struggled to keep the anger off his face and out of his voice. “Who hurt you, Isabelle?”
Eyes gleaming with unmistakable rage snapped to his. “I can’t talk about her now.” Her voice was a low snarl. “I need to be able to control it. The wolf. Will eating meat help me do that?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Properly feeding your body helps maintain balance between the human and animal sides.”
“All right.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll eat meat if you teach me to control...it.”
“It? Your wolf, you mean.” He really didn’t like where this was going. “You want me to teach you how to not shift unexpectedly?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Isabelle—” His wolf stopped him. In his head, the predator prowled. Seeking the reason for his mate’s fury and fear. A way to conquer it. Patience, his wolf said. Hunt.
Luke blinked. “Okay, sugar,” he said, putting on an Oscar-caliber performance of nonchalance. He rubbed his hands together and made a show of looking around the kitchen. Legs as stiff as cedar trunks carried him to the refrigerator. “Let’s find you something to eat.”