CHAPTER TEN
With the shopping packed away in the Jeep, Lexi led Annabelle across the street to the bakery. They had one more stop after this, and that was for that beast squatting in the cabin. First, she was going to take her time picking cakes. She let the little girl run inside so she could pick her sweet treat. Lexi paused at the door, because as always, the bakery was packed. Ira’s wife was a master with pastries, and that meant everyone in town came here. Taking a breath, she pushed open the door and braced herself against the thick blanket of illness that hit her.
It was like walking through mist so thick she had to physically push her way through it. She could feel every broken bone, every bout of flu and deadly illness hovering around her mind, calling for her to heal it. Like vampires they unknowingly sucked at the energy that floated around her, trying desperately to prolong their lives or make themselves feel better. Lexi knew it was out of their control. Their souls cried out for aid, and hers ached to help them, even at the expense of her own life.
Lexi took in a slow breath and stepped up to the counter. The buzzing in her ears was louder, and she could feel the people beginning to drain away the healing energy her body emitted. It was starting to give her a migraine. This was why she hated coming to town, why she liked to remain with the animals. They did not steal her power, they only asked for aid.
“Good morning, Lexi, little Belle. What can I get for you?” The bright eyes of Mrs. Kane hid deep sickness that Lexi could see. The mass in her lower back had grown. It was clear she had not listened when Lexi told her to go to the doctor last time she saw her.
“Morning. I will take a dozen croissants, one apple pie, and half a dozen cream puffs…”
“And that one, Auntie Lexi, the big one with all the fruit, please, pretty please?” Pleading eyes turned to her. She closed her eyes and nodded slowly with a weak smile.
“And the fruit tart as well. Thank you, Carla.”
Lexi rubbed the bridge of her nose and tried desperately to keep her walls up, but she was starting to sweat from it. The pain throbbed in her brain. She had two choices—heal someone and deal with being sick for a week, or get herself as far away from the people as possible.
“You feeling okay, Lexi dear? You look a little pale. Are you getting one of your migraines?” It was a good story—the reason she stayed away from town was that she suffered from chronic migraines. It was sort of true; she only got them when she was in town.
She just nodded and felt her niece’s hand slide into hers. She felt the pain begin to diminish, and she opened her eyes, looking down into the almost glowing gaze of the little angel holding her hand. Yeah, they would need to explain to her soon about using her powers anywhere someone could see. Stroking Belle’s hair, Lexi gave her a small smile and turned, grabbing the bag and boxes full of treats and then handing over the money.
They waved goodbye, and finally got out of the busy bakery before she let out a held breath. Time to get home and in her room with a cold cloth over her eyes. The fresh air felt great against her heated skin. Annabelle remained silent as they walked down the street toward the Jeep. Lexi’s mind was on getting home, so the sound of squealing tires scared the living daylights out of her.
She reacted, pulling Belle to her quickly and narrowly keeping her niece from being hit by an out-of-control car as it spun wildly over the icy street. Her heart in her throat, she watched with horror as the car slammed into the bakery. Her eyes went wide. No, no, not the people inside. She cried out as she felt the deaths of many rushing past her. Screams and smoke rose from the building; people from other shops began running toward what remained of the bakery.
Annabelle stood staring at the carnage, her little eyes wide, as screaming and shouting filled the air. Lexi turned her face away and considered for a moment just driving away. Tears burned her stormy eyes and she banged her fist against the car. Damn, she couldn’t leave them to die. Pulling open the door she threw in the bags and then lifted Annabelle in after them.
“You stay here, understand?” Annabelle didn’t answer, she just kept staring at the stunned people covered in blood who stumbled from the wreckage.
Rushing across the street Lexi made it inside to grab a small young boy no more than four as he stumbled while trying to walk on a broken leg, his pain dulled by shock. Voices were all around her, people shouting orders while trying to help who they could. Lexi laid the boy on the sidewalk. Her hands burned like fire, and she closed her eyes, throwing out her power into him to seek out the injuries. Massive internal bleeding, ruptured spleen, punctured lung. She could not stop her power from doing what it was created for. Healing energy rushed from her fingers, sinking into the boy and burning the injuries from him, sewing up damage, and repairing bone.
Lexi sucked in a hard breath and stumbled back, pain exploding in her own body. Hissing, she watched the little boy sit up and blink, calling for his mother. She used a wall to hold herself up, and she cried out as her body went into overdrive. She could feel the broken leg, now hers, begin to knit back together, and the lung begin to heal. She sucked in a deep breath.
Her eyes looked around at the carnage. Death hung in the air around her, and spirits of those just passed begged to be allowed another moment with a loved one. But she knew better than to try and heal the dead; it could have dire consequences, not just for the healed person, but for her own soul. Pushing off the wall she entered the remains of the bakery and climbed over the counter where, only moments before, she had stood with her niece.
Carla Kane lay behind the counter, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Her eyes stared unblinking in death, and Lexi covered her mouth. Tears burned on her cheeks. She moved, climbing over more debris. A soft moan came from the back of the room. She moved toward the sound and pulled the remains of a table off a young pregnant woman. People rushed around grabbing bodies and pulling them from the rubble and wreckage. The pregnant woman was begging softly over and over.
“My baby, please help my baby.” She was rubbing her belly, a large gash cutting deep across it, a shard of wood protruding from it. Lexi didn’t want to tell her the baby was already dying; his last heartbeats echoed, foretelling of his terrible fate. She reached out and slid the shard of wood from the wound and covered the sudden flow of blood and amniotic fluid. The burning began again, and she fell to her knees. As if in a trance, and against her will, Lexi’s power was pulled from her by the burning desire of the mother to save her child.
Lexi cried out as heat surged through her and into the woman, the placenta sewing closed and healing. The ruptured umbilical cord threaded back together, ensuring the life of her child. Injuries not even associated with the bakery—a heart defect in the babe that would kill it not long after birth—vanished. Lexi gasped, feeling her heart stutter as her power flooded the infant. The little heartbeat began rushing hard and strong.
Falling back on the crushed wood and dust she tried to suck in a breath, her body burning as it attempted to heal the injuries she had taken on. The young mother looked at her with total awe, her hand rubbing over her belly, which only moments before had been almost ripped open. Lexi sat up, suddenly sucking air into her burning lungs. She needed to get out of here. Her body couldn’t take any more.
“Wait!” The voice of the unknown woman was lost in the orders being barked out by the newly arrived police and firemen. Lexi stumbled out, squeezing past the car and the dead driver within. She was covered in dust and blood. She blinked back the pain from the heart defect and put her hand to her chest, rubbing it as she stumbling to the car. Using the vehicle to hold herself up she looked inside for Annabelle, and her eyes went wide. She was gone! Panic gripped her and she turned around quickly, taking in the scene of bodies in the street—people crying, covered in dust. Her eyes fell on the white blonde hair. Annabelle was kneeling beside a body covered with a sheet. The child, in her innocence, didn’t know the risks. Lexi knew what could happen if she tried to heal the dead. Pushing off the car she moved as quickly as she could.
“Annabelle! Don’t!” It was too late! The little girl reached out her tiny hands and touched the dead body, her little form going rigid.
Lexi dived for her, grabbing her from the healing trance and holding the little girl as she convulsed in her arms. Finally, she stopped and Lexi sobbed softly, looking down into her niece’s wide blank eyes. She seemed fine. No wound had opened up on her face or body, but she was unresponsive.
A soft cough came from Lexi’s left and she felt her heart stop. Turning her gaze, she watched in awe and horror as the body that had been covered and dead sat up and began coughing. The sheet fell down, revealing Carla Kane, her eyes glazed but very much alive. Lexi stood quickly, holding the child to her as she ran to the car.
Tears burned her eyes, not just for her niece, but for those she couldn’t save. She dropped Annabelle onto the backseat and burned rubber out of town. She just hoped no one had seen what one little five-year-old had done with her hands.
Layla had given Wolfman her father’s old clothes. The only things that fit him happened to be the sweats and an overly large t-shirt that would have swamped her father, but fit this man like a glove. He had taken a very long shower and used all the hot water, but at least he didn’t smell like the barn anymore.
The fact all the clothes might as well have been a second skin gave her imagination no problems. She could now see every ridge of his chest and the powerful legs as the material stretched to near breaking. She was not sure if the clothes were a good idea. Now she found herself watching him walk around the room. God, he could not be real.
She entered the room and saw him looking at his rough bearded face in the mirror over the mantle. He rubbed his hands over his jaw and turned around when he saw her in the mirror.
“Might I trouble you for a razor? I don’t like the beard.”
“You could do with a haircut as well. Come have a seat, let me see what I can do with this mop of hair.” Layla put the fresh towels on the table and went to a chest of drawers to pull out a comb and some scissors. She watched him as he looked at the tools before moving to a chair and sitting down, his back stiff.
“Relax, Wolfman, I am not going to shave you or anything.” She heard him grunt, and a smile spread on her lips. She moved behind him and ran her fingers through his damp hair before running the comb through the tangles.
Layla cut out the worst of the tangles and knots, cleaning up the edges, a smile on her lips as his head rolled back. He was more like a wolf than she had expected—he liked to be touched. She was not ashamed to admit she liked touching him. She moved around to his front. His eyes opened, fanning the flames burning low in her belly again. One look and he could turn her insides to water.
She ran her fingers slowly along his beard, lifting the scissors and clipping at the curly hair. Trimming down from his ears to his jaw she felt his hands move to her hips. She should stop him, but god help her, she didn’t want to. His eyes were locked on her the whole time. His hands trailed over her ass, pulling her between his legs.
“I’m trying to concentrate here, Wolfman. Unless you want me to slip and accidentally cut you, stop moving,” God what was this? She had never felt a draw so powerful before. Even with Richard, a man she had loved, she had been wary, unsure—and now she knew why. But with this man, she had no hesitation. Nothing came to mind as to why she should not let him touch her. Why could she not be touching him back?
“Forgive me, I would like to say that I can be a gentleman and stop, but to be honest, I don’t want to.” He tilted his head back as she chuckled and began trimming under his chin.
“Not sure I want you to either, Wolfman, but let’s behave, shall we?” She had not stopped smiling since this morning, and he had done that.
“I don’t know what kind of man I am, but I like to think I am the kind of man that doesn’t like to behave.” His low teasing tone brought a flush to her skin, and she straightened and cleared her throat.
“I can believe that. Now hush and let me finish.” His low chuckle sank into her skin making her feel tight all over. Her body clamped and tensed while a shiver of awareness ran hot and fast down her spine.
Rolling her shoulders, she leaned in to continue trimming his beard. His scent was beyond erotic. Now that he did not smell of dog, his natural scent was like a drug—he smelled wild, fresh, and free, the scent of pine after the rain.
She licked her lips and let out a breath as she finally finished trimming him. If he wanted the beard gone she would need to get him a razor and he could do it himself. Pulling back, she sucked in a deep breath and met his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her voice sounded like a whisper to her ears. Her heart constricted as she thought about what happened to her before. She could not fall for a man who might vanish again. Richard had been a mistake. She was a silly girl then who believed she was in love. She didn’t regret Annabelle, just wished Richard had not been so much of a dick.
Yet one look in this male’s eyes and she knew this could be a hard and fast fall, a fall she might not recover from if he left. This was insane, crazy, but it felt right—sometimes the fast falls were the good ones. His gaze was locked on her with intensity, making her stomach flip and her body tighten. This was crazy, but she admitted crazy sometimes felt right.
“Okay, err, look, I know this thing between us is strong. I know you feel it. But I can’t, not with someone I don’t know. It is not just me I have to think about, Wolfman. Annabelle is the most important thing in my life. I will not do anything to upset my daughter.” Layla stepped back from between his legs and let out a breath, blowing the stray hair from her forehead. Shaking her head again she walked toward the kitchen.
She dropped the scissors and comb in the sink, then leaned against it, watching the snow starting to fall outside the window. Where was Lexi? She should be home by now. Something was wrong. Rubbing her chest, Layla felt something tightening her heart, something that had nothing to do with the seriously hot male making her hormones stand up and take notice. Layla felt his presence behind her before his warm hands spread on her back and up her shoulders. The unease in her chest paled in comparison to the overwhelming power of his presence.
“I might not know much about myself. But I know one thing, Layla. I would never harm you.” She turned around to face him, tilting her head back so she could see him.
“You don’t know that; you don’t even know your name.” She could feel the sink behind her, and his body before her. She should feel trapped, but god forgive her, she didn’t; it felt right.
“Then you give me a name, Layla.” He reached out and brushed his fingers down her cheek, tilting her head back enough that she could see his hypnotic eyes.
She gave him a wry smile. “Careful, Wolfman, I might name you Ferdinand or Pewburt.”
The smile that spread on his lips just ranked his handsome meter another ten notches higher. “Ferdinand I could live with.” He actually seemed to be considering it.
Layla laughed and shook her head. “I was joking, I’m not calling you that, silly man. How about Michael?”
That name appeared to cause an instant reaction in him. He moved back quickly and hissed as he gripped his head. Layla reached for him, and for a second she thought he would pull away from her. He shook his head violently, as if trying to remove something from within. What was it about the name Michael? Clearly it held a powerful trigger for him. He sank to his knees and she followed him down, her heart aching at the pain etched on his face. He took a deep breath and finally opened his eyes.
“Are you okay? What happened?” She was knelt on the floor with him, her eyes worriedly scanning his face.
“That name, I feel it is important.” Growling low he gripped his hair. His whole body seemed to convulse in pain. Layla reached for him. His skin felt like it was burning to her touch. He hissed in a breath but pressed into her touch, a soft groan leaving him. The pain left his face, and the strain faded from his shoulders. If she could bring him relief she would do all she could for him. When his eyes opened again they were burning, sending heat licking over her skin. This was a bad idea. She knew what he was about to do, and she could stop him. But damn, she didn’t want to.
He moved in, covering her mouth with his. She felt his kiss rush over her body like a wave. She gasped, her lips parting, and he took full advantage, sweeping his tongue between them and making her whimper. His hands moved to her cheeks, tilting her head to the side so he could kiss her deeper, his tongue brushing over hers.
He kissed her like she was water in a desert, and Layla knew she should be thinking about her heart, about her daughter. But in that moment, with his tongue sweeping over hers, she forgot about everything. His fingers moved into her hair and she molded herself against him, tentatively flicking her tongue back against his. That action brought a growl from him. She felt the vibrations sinking into her skin, bringing a moan to her lips. The kiss turned from a slow exploration into something deeper, more primal, driven by need.
His beard tickled her chin, but it was not an unpleasant sensation. Their tongues dueled for dominance, advancing and retreating in an age-old dance of seduction. Layla felt his hands move down to her ass and pull her hard against him. She would have had to be dead not to feel his hard erection pressing against her belly. The prospect of what could happen between them had her womb fluttering and her body flooding with liquid heat.
It had been so long since Layla had touched another male, so long since someone had wanted her with the same fervor. Men did not respond well to a single mother with a five-year-old daughter— they didn’t want to sign on for a “shake and bake” family.
She felt him lift her and set her down on his lap as he sat back against his heels. His hands ran up and down her back, moving to the hem of her shirt and sinking under it to the smooth skin. Layla gasped into his mouth. This was getting too real. Despite her body and hormones screaming at her to jump on this horse and take one heck of a wild ride, she had to think about Annabelle. His lips left hers and trailed down her neck. The sensation of his teeth and tongue against her throat almost made her come apart. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she forced her brain back to working order.
“Wolf, stop, I can’t.” He did not have to be told twice; he pulled back panting softly. His eyes were intense, flicking with blue flame. Layla licked her lips and brushed her thumb against his bottom lip.
“I’m not saying never… I just can’t, not until Annabelle is okay with it. This is a package deal, and if you are going to vanish I would rather she not get attached. You can break me, but don’t break her heart.”
He narrowed his eyes and cupped her face with his hands. “Listen to me, Layla. I know one thing from that one kiss—I know you are mine. If you are mine, so is she. There will be no force that will keep me from you or her.” The intensity in his voice almost made her sob. This was impossible. How could he already be burrowing into her heart? And why did it feel right?