Accidentally Yours (Coyote Bluff Series Book 1) (7 page)

Cammie sat on the steps just as she’d done the night before. She leaned back until she was resting her elbows on the deck. The morning was beautiful and soothed her mind, but she was still tired and anxious. Being up with the critter now wandering around her yard had broken into her sleep. At least the bruising around her eye looked a lot better this morning. There would still be discolored areas, but the swelling had gone down. She could use makeup to cover the ugly skin, but there wouldn’t have been anything she could do about the swelling. Her lip was better and only pulled a little if she smiled. The ache in her ribs was slightly better, but each breath still hurt. She’d be tender for a few days, but all in all she’d come out of the fight with minimal damage.

She just needed to decide what she was going to do now. She couldn’t go back to him, that was for sure. The loneliness was already starting to creep into her mind. What was she going to do without someone to see each night?
You need to get out and find some girlfriends, Cammie-girl.
She sighed. Friends meant putting roots down, opening up, talking about herself. Perhaps that was why she’d stayed with Ron for so long. He was needy and didn’t ask questions. She could be with him and know he was never going to pry about her father, her past, nothing. Yes, he’d held her when she cried, but he’d not really been into talking about why she cried.

Her mind crept back to the man in her dream. She knew that he was just a dream, knew he wasn’t real, but she could have sworn she smelled him in the sheet she’d wrapped around herself earlier. Her lips still tingled from the touch of his. Nothing she’d ever dreamed was this clear and close to the surface. Dreams tended to be smoky and hazy for her, fading quickly once she woke. Not this one. This dream had her all twisted up inside, hot and wet.
Ian.
She sighed.

She scoffed at herself and rose from the steps. She had things to do today and she couldn’t sit around waiting for her wounded wolf to come wandering back. She’d leave the door open and he could come in when he was ready. She brushed imaginary dirt from her jeans as she strode up the steps.

When she entered the laundry room she noticed a bandana laying on the floor next to the blanket bed she’d made for him. She’d totally forgotten that he’d been wearing the bandana last night. Perhaps there would be owner information on it. A twinge of regret coursed through her. Stupid.
You know he has an owner
.
It’s not like you can keep him
. She’d fallen so quickly into enjoying the animal’s company that she really didn’t want to give him up. He gave her someone to talk to, to keep the loneliness at bay. She flipped the blood-stained rag around, checking the seams for a tag or permanent marker. Nothing. She tried to keep the grin off her face.
You aren’t supposed to get attached
.

She agreed with her internal thoughts, but it meant she could keep him another day, maybe more. If an owner didn’t come forward she definitely would be keeping him, even if he did scare her sometimes. He was just so big, and those intelligent eyes reacted so differently than a dog would to things. She would swear that he grinned earlier when she was trying to get him off her bed.

She left the door open and quickly cleaned up the laundry room floor. There was still blood and dirt everywhere. A mop and some bleach-water did the trick, washing away the gore from the night before. She looked at the bed and figured she’d leave it in case he wanted to nap there. He’d end up in her room again, she was sure, for the night.

Before heading into the kitchen she peeked outside to see if he was hanging around the porch, but she didn’t see the wolf. She shrugged and went to make breakfast. Maybe the smell of eggs and bacon would draw him back home. Home?
Oh, Cammie-girl, don’t get attached or you’ll be heartbroken when the owners come to get him
.

Cammie looked out the window for the millionth time, searching her yard for a sign of her wolfy friend. Did he run off now that he was better? Perhaps he could sniff his way back home. She felt conflicted. Should she go looking for him or just let nature takes its course and let him go? With a sigh she turned from the window and started plating her breakfast. If he came back there would be food for him and if not she had something to warm up later for lunch. Sitting at her table felt strange without someone else there with her. She usually ate in the living room, on her favorite chair, but she didn’t want the wolf to come in and not find her. She snorted and mumbled under her breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You act like he’s a person. If he wanders into the house he’ll find you just fine.” She didn’t get up and move into the living room though. She sat at the table, watching the open front door, hoping he’d walk through it. To take her mind off the animal she pulled her “To Do” list closer and examined what she had planned for the day. Shopping, a trip to the auto shop, a stop at the library. Not too much to do, but if she caught lunch in town she could waste most of the day away.

As she stood from the table a movement by the door caught her eye. A smile spread across her face as she waited for her wolf to come through the door. The thing that stomped across the floor wiped the smile from her face in one f
ell swoop. Ronald Norte had come a-callin’ and he didn’t look happy. A deep breath helped her steady her nerves but she really wished she’d kept the .22 on the dining room table instead of putting it back under her bed.

“Ron, what the hell are you doing her
e? Get out.” She cringed when her voice shook. Standing quickly from her chair and placing it between her and the approaching cloud of thunder didn’t help her rein in her fear.

“Oh, no, Cammie. I’m not leaving. See, somehow last night I got hit over the fucking head by a bitch who was supposed to be my girlfriend. I don’t take kindly to that kind of abuse from the woman I’m sleeping with.” He stalked forward. Anger and rage rolled off him in tangible waves. Bloodshot eyes glowed with menace as he stared at her. The smell of alcohol and body odor preceded him into the room. It washed over her, drawing her stomach into a tight knot, and added a hint of nausea to her already terrifying situation. She backed f
arther into the room and circled behind the table, putting it squarely between them. What the hell was she going to do?

The closest phone was in the kitchen, attached to the wall. Her cell phone was probably upstairs, along with the gun and her baseball bat. He stood between the dining room and the kitchen, so any weapon she could use was closer to him then her.
Think, girlie, think. You can outsmart him, but you have to calm down
. Good advice, if she could just listen and obey it.

“Ron, why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk about this. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. You scared me and I reacted,” she said, infusing as much false calm into her voice as she could. She glanced around the room. A weapon, a weapon…
What can I use for a fucking weapon?
When her gaze finally fell on the heavy, metal candle holder on the middle of the table she felt her body shake with relief.

“Fuck you. I’m not gonna sit down and talk about this. I woke up on my own fucking kitchen floor with a hurt leg, busted up broom handle and
a fucking headache. It took me an hour to get up and drink enough to stop the fucking pounding in my head.” He stepped farther into the room and took a step around the table, sneering at her when she mirrored his step. “You are such a fucking pansy. I knew you were the first time we met and you went all doe-eyed at me. I’m going to teach you how to behave, one way or the other, woman. Now get over here.”

“No. I’m done with you, Ron. We’re finished. You’ve hit me for the last time. I really don’t want to hurt you, so why don’t you go home and sober up. Then, if you still want to talk, let me know.” He weaved another step around the table and she once again mimicked the move. She wasn’t stupid enough to let him get to her. If she could get him around behind the table she could make a run for the kitchen and at least grab something better to defend herself.

She tried not to stare at the candle holder sitting on the table. She was afraid that if he figured out what she was going to do he’d grab it first. Trying to time her lunge with his next step taught her once again that drunk didn’t equate stupid. He grabbed for the holder at the same time. Both scrambled across the table, knocking silverware and napkins to the floor. She tried to reach further than her shorter stature would normally allow, using both hands to drag herself onto the table. Her fingers barely touched the cool metal when it was yanked from her grasp. She tried to reach for it, to drag it from his hand but he was quicker to scramble off the table. The evil laugh that rattled in his chest scared her more than anything else she could remember.

He wasn’t looking at her with anger any longer. A calculating glint sparkled in his eye. A sickly chill ran down her spine,
while her palms were clammy and slick. He wasn’t there to just slap her around. He had serious pain on his mind. She sucked in a deep breath and readied herself for the dash to the kitchen. If she didn’t find something to defend herself with soon she’d be fending him off with her bare hands.

She saw the movement and tried to duck before the candle holder whistled by her ear and skittered under the cabinet behind her. It struck her shoulder on the way by, throwing her off balance for a split second and forcing a pained cry from her lips. She knew the sign of weakness would delight him, but the throbbing in her shoulder was more than she could take without showing something. She winced when she touched the spot on her collarbone. It didn’t feel wet, so she was fairly sure she wasn’t bleeding. She couldn’t stand there and let him launch more things at her head. Next time she might not be so lucky.

With a whimper she tried to swallow, she turned and sprinted around the end of the table. She could hear Ron grunting behind her. She swore she could feel his foul breath breezing over her neck. Every hair on her body stood up, chills raced across her skin. The evil and anger seemed to permeate the air, thickening it and making it harder to suck in a breath. She felt like a rabbit being chased by a fox. The prey to a sadistic predator. She wanted to scream, to turn and see where he was. Make it to the closet, grab the broom, don’t look back.

The few seconds it took to make it around the doorway and across the kitchen felt like hours. Every cell in her body screamed to escape. Adrenaline lent a heavy pounding to her blood. It rushed loudly in her ears and seemed to echo off the walls in the room. She could barely hear her own gasps for air as she finally made it to the closet door. The chant was loud in her mind.
Open the door, open the door, open the door
. She reached out, hand violently shaking, and grasped the doorknob. She sobbed her relief when the door swung open easily. Her eyes locked on the thick wooden broom handle at the back of the closet. She reached out and screeched in terror, and anger, when her head snapped back.

Her scalp screamed with pain as Ron yanked her out of the closet by her hair and threw her across the kitchen. She slammed into the cupboards under her sink, knocking the breath from her in a pained whoosh.

“Get up.” His voice was deep and menacing.

She shook her head to clear the haze. Terror was gripping her chest so tightly she couldn’t breathe. She knew being on the floor was a bad place to be if he attacked, but she couldn’t coordinate her heavy limbs enough to stand. He moved a step closer. She could see the triumph shining from his dark eyes.

“Get. The. Fuck. Up.”

This was it. She was going to die on her kitchen floor. She knew she was gasping, hyperventilating. Her lips tingled with the increased oxygen circulating so quickly through her body. Her heart was racing, fed by the adrenaline and fear. Shudders shook her, rattling her teeth. Her vision was dimming with the encroaching black of unconsciousness, but she couldn’t stop the gulps of air. When she blacked out he’d show no mercy and just beat her to death. For a moment she almost gave in.
It’ll be painless, mostly
.

A growl, so deep and animalistic it sounded foreign in her house, came from behind Ron. In the tunnel-vision that was slowly swallowing Cammie she caught a glimpse of fast moving fur. She heard a yelp and then the darkness engulfed her.

Ian, with sides heaving and a growl deep in his chest, stood over the human male. He fought the inner struggle with his animal side to just kill the bastard and be done with it. His scent was familiar enough to know that he was the one who had hurt Cammie the night before. He was the asshole that she’d cried about. Her fear was so thick on the air that it made it difficult to breathe. What the hell had this jerk been about to do to her?

He looked over at the crumpled woman and growled again. She was injured enough to be bleeding. He could smell it in the air. A shiver ran along his back, raising his hackles. The images he’d seen when he limped into the house were terrifying. Cammie had been cowering against the cabinets, shaking and whimpering. The man had been approaching her with her death shining in his beady eyes. Ian hadn’t thought before acting. His animal instincts kicked in and he jumped at the man, wrapping his jaws around an outstretched arm. He’d pulled hard and yelped when the man stumbled enough to fall, hard
, against the doorjamb.

The drunken fuckwad had bounced his skull against the wooden frame enough to knock himself out. After one more glance at the male, Ian walked toward Cammie. She was laying in an unnatural slump, but he could hear her breathing. He nudged her gently with his nose, hoping to wake her without frightening her. He gave her hand a quick lick and pulled a groan from her. Her eyes stayed shut and when a second lick didn’t wake her he decided to wait a little. He lowered himself and snuggled his body close to hers, pressing his fur against her to warm and comfort her the only way he could in his wolf state.

It only took a few minutes for her to rouse. A groan slipped through her parted lips a heartbeat before her eyes flickered. He watched her confusion slide quickly to fear as she tried to sit up. He whined in sympathy when she tensed and whimpered. Pain oozed off her skin with each breath she pulled into her lungs. He felt rage building again, twitching his muscles and making a growl rumble in his chest. He stopped the noise when she jerked away from his body.

A moan from the asswipe across the room brought Ian’s hackles up, and another growl to his throat. He stood slowly, and placed his body between the ass and Cammie. He would not allow her to be injured any further, even if he had to kill the male in her kitchen. His lips pulled back from his teeth as he watched the man come to his knees with clumsy movements. The wolf was pushing to attack, to stop him from standing.

“What the fuck? You have a dog? When the hell did you get a dog?” The male pitched forward slightly but caught himself on the edge of a cabinet. His voice was full of anger, but slightly slurred with either pain or booze. “I’m gonna kill it in front of you, bitch. It bit me. I’m fucking bleeding again.”

Ian could hear Cammie moving behind him. She slowly slid to a seated slump against the cabinet. He could smell her blood, metallic and heavy, in the air. Between the smell of her injuries and her fear he was holding onto his control by a thread. He could kill the human in a matter of moments and save her from any further pain. The feel of breaking bones was a phantom impulse causing his jaws to clench. Saliva dripped from his lips in anticipation.

“Ron. Get out of my house.” Her voice was a whisper, but the anger behind them vibrated in the air. They moved over Ian, ruffling his fur and adding another level of fury to his already raging emotions. She slowly shook her head and her next words were a little stronger. “I’m calling the sheriff. Enough is enough. You need to leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you, but if you keep pressing your luck you’re going to get arrested.”

The other man attempted, unsuccessfully, to stand. He fell hard to his knees and yelped. Ian’s lips peeled back in a murderous grin. He couldn’t stop the snarl that snaked through his teeth. He took a step forward, reducing the space between him and the man. He watched as the male heaved himself up, standing on shaking legs. The sneer that crossed the man’s lips increased the volume of Ian’s snarl. The look was purely sadistic. The satisfaction there that injuries and pain had been inflicted sparked in the man’s eyes.

“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back. I’m not done with you yet, Cammie. No woman is gonna get the best of me.” Ron turned slowly, hobbling and wincing as he walked to the door.

Cammie must have been watching him leave as well, because the moment Ron was no longer visible she collapsed and sobbed quietly into her arms. Her whole body shook while she cried. Ian wanted to fix this for her, but he needed to stay near her in case Ron returned. He listened to the truck the asshole drove leave quickly, spitting gravel, as he left her yard. With a final shake of his head and snort to clear the male’s scent from his nose, he turned and looked her over. The pain and anguish flowing from her was too much.

He padded back to her and lay on the ground next to her, scooting his body next to hers. He was surprised when she flung her arm over his body and buried her face in his fur, but he was glad he could give her some comfort.