After the Moon Rises (10 page)

Big G shook his head.
Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.

Margie raised a shoulder and cocked her head in a wolfish shrug. What other choice did she have?
Sorry.

Chapter Two

Zane woke to arms wrapped around him. Male arms. Male werewolf arms. Adrenaline kicked in, banging through his veins, fueling his anger, all resulting in a great big nothing. What the fuck? Why was he being carried?

He sucked in a breath and a snap-kick of pain shot through his ribs. Oh, shit. Not good. Had he been shot in the side? Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was a loud report ricocheting through the trees. He must have crawled and hidden from the hunters who were chasing him. What an idiot to forget that out here in Montana they hunted wolves like Easter eggs. If he hadn’t been a were, he’d likely be dead. Even so, he could die if the bullet lodged in his side wasn’t removed before his fast healing ability sealed it in.

He might know what happened to him, but he sure as hell didn’t know whose arms surrounded him. A light touch brushed his head, ruffling his fur.

“Shh. You’re among your kind. We’ll take care of you.”

The female voice came from the side and soothed across his pain, a calming balm in a storm. He sucked a breath in and his eyes popped wide. The scent of the female werewolf lodged in his brain, firing his instincts, marking her as his.

Holy shit, he’d found his mate.

And he was too injured to claim her.

Fuck. His eyes rolled and darkness crept toward him, blocking the shadowy outline of the female wolf.
No, no, no.
He would not pass out. Only sissies fainted. But judging by the fact that with his next remembered breath, instead of arms wrapped around him, the soft pad of a mattress cushioned his backside, he concluded he must be a sissy.

Great. He was in the middle of effing Montana, shot, half dead, and in a strange bed. At least the place smelled like werewolf instead of a human hospital, which was one thing in his favor.

Did that mean he’d found what he’d been looking for? Were the rumors right? Or had he been chasing smoke?

And what would Sid do if he found out Zane used Sid’s seek-and-find mission to further his own agenda? Maybe Lady Luck would actually be on his side for once and let Sid remain clueless.

Yeah, right. When pigs flew out his ass.

But then, Lady Luck introduced him to his mate—provided he could find her again—so maybe he should be checking for winged pigs.

The hum of a fan turning on followed by a soft breeze crossing his skin had him tilting his head to the sound. Keeping his eyes closed, he took a deep breath through his nose. His human nose. How long had he been unconscious? It must be morning for him to have turned in his unconscious state. The damn torc he wore prevented him from turning at will, which meant he smelled like an alpha, but turned furry like a lesser rank. Sun went down and there was a full moon, he turned into a werewolf; sun came back up and he became human. As an alpha, he should be able to change at will.

Once he got rid of this damn torc, Sid was dead.

The click of a turning doorknob and a squeak of hinges had his lids rolling upward. Light glowed from a lamp sitting on a stand next to the bed, pushing the darkness away from where he lay.

“Well, well, I see our newest addition is awake.” Zane squinted at the doorway, at the man standing hidden in shadows. “How are you feeling, pal?” The man stepped into the light, his gaze running from the top of Zane’s head to the middle of his chest, all business-like and professional.

Obviously his hosts’ vet-doctor.

“My name is Allen Erickson, and I’m the London, Montana pack’s vet-doctor.”

Good job guessing his visitor’s purpose. It seemed his higher brain function still worked. Yay, him. Of course the black bag the man carried was a pretty good clue. Zane pushed up to a sitting position, ignoring the pain in his side.

“I’m Zane Moskos. What happened? Where am I?”

“You got shot, pal. Damn hunters out roaming around killing cousins, thinking they’re all big shots. We brought you back here, to the Flying Fur Dude Ranch. You’re in our underground infirmary.”

“You brought a wolf into a place where humans stay?”

“Are you kidding? We close up shop for three days at the full moon. I take it you aren’t from around here?” Allen yanked down the sheet and pulled back the bandage covering Zane’s chest.

Zane flinched. “Nope. Not from around here.”

“Hmm. Where you from?” Allen peered at Zane’s incision.

“How’s it look, doc?” Allen could think again if he thought Zane was handing out info about his life.

“You’re healing up all nice-like. Had to remove a bullet that nicked a rib but it missed vital organs. You’ll have some pain for awhile, but it will go away. Doesn’t look like an infection is setting in. How are you feeling?”

Like a train rolled over my chest.
“Not too bad.”

“Hmm. You don’t have to front to me, you know. I can smell your pain.” Allen crossed his arms, his stance a muscular six-feet of looming over-confidence.

Zane bristled, his lip curling.

Allen’s gaze flitted away and returned to Zane. “You might be an alpha, but I’m a vet-doctor and in this, I’m above you. Now do you want to be in pain for the next several days, or do you want to suck up that attitude and let me help you?”

Zane let loose with a subsonic growl that removed a small bit of confidence off the vet-doctor’s face. He wanted to refuse the help, but the reality was, he hated being in pain. Why fight it? Having pride was not the same thing as being stupid.

His lip relaxed and he sank against the pillows. “Fine. Fire away.”

Allen picked his bag up off the floor and set it on the bed. Snapping the clasp free, he pawed through the contents. “Ah-ha. Here it is.” He pulled a bottle out and shook it in the air, contents rattling inside. “One Vicodin tablet.”

Zane held out his hand and Allen poured a tablet into it.

“Let me get you some water, pal.” Allen reached toward the nightstand and came back holding a glass of water, bendy straw included. Niiice.

Zane popped the pill and chased it down with a pull from the straw. The water dusted grime from the back of his throat, leaving cool tracks in its wake.
Ahh.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. It might make you a little dizzy so try not to get out of bed. Do you need some help to the bathroom before the medicine hits your bloodstream?”

Yeah, come to think of it he did. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and decided to tell his pride to take a walk. Something told him he needed Allen’s help, whether he liked it or not.

Leaning on the vet-doctor like the man was the only support in a gale force, he moved his feet in little-old-man shuffles to the bathroom. The damn things didn’t move more than an inch at a time. By the time he finished his bathroom duties and shuffled his ass back to the bed, he swore an hour had passed. The Vicodin started to kick in, giving him a dose of lightheadedness and a slight bit of pain relief.

Allen patted Zane on the shoulder. “Try to get some rest. By the time the pill wears off and you wake up, you should feel better. Then I’ll send in our alpha.” His lips turned upward as a twinkle entered his eyes. “I think you’ll get along just fine with her. See you later.”

A click of the door and Zane was alone with a sliver of light, a glass of water and his thoughts. Which swam around in circles like hungry sharks. He kept following his prey, and every time he gave chase, the scent of his mate slapped through his senses, stopping him in his tracks.

Then he’d run after her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, her body, anything besides her scent, but only found his prey watching him. The dream restarted, over and over again until he fell into a restless sleep.

****

Margie pressed her lips together in a painful attempt not to snap at Landa. The poor female walked like molasses traveling uphill on a cold day as she carried the tray of soup meant for the wounded alpha. She could have had an entire meeting with her elders and then watched Christmas whiz on past by the time Landa made it halfway down the infirmary hallway.

“I’m sorry, alpha. I don’t want the soup to spill. He needs as much food as possible. It’s not needed to walk beside me.”

Sure and what was she supposed to do? Storm into the room containing the alpha, mention she brought him soup and then wait for freaking ever before it showed up?

Yes, yes, yes
, her hormones clamored.
Damn hormones.
She could do without the things banging about in her body, making coming into heat seem like a walk in the park. Wait a minute, maybe she was going into heat, maybe the wounded alpha lying in the infirmary was just that, a wounded alpha and nothing more.
Yeah, right.
She might not like it, but that wolf belonged to her.

Shit
.

“It’s okay, Landa. I just need to see him.”
Might as well see who fate threw me together with.
Her body tingled at the thought of her mate’s hands stroking her skin, while her mind got busy passing out warning signals.
Run away, run away
. Geez, she didn’t know what side to jump on, fear or hormonal irrationality.

Wasn’t being a female grand?

A hint of a smile touched Landa’s lips. “I understand.”

Margie had a creepy feeling Landa understood way more than she should. Different werewolves possessed varying gifts ranging from none to telekinesis and everything in between. Perhaps Landa had a gift of reading minds.

Don’t-ask-don’t-tell needed a repeal.

She’d work on that, right after she saw the injured wolf.

Their footsteps echoed down the linoleum corridor located under the ranch house as the smell of cleaning solution filled her nose. Her father had been one smart male to build a virtual compound that doubled as a dude ranch. She closed her eyes as memories of her parents washed over her.

It had been ten years since they died in a car crash and for the most part she did well. Time healed wounds, even grievous ones. But occasionally a memory would sneak in, slip past the barriers erected, and reduce her to rubble. What made the scent of lemon-fresh cleaning solution and the clap of boot heels on linoleum that sneaky memory, she’d never know.

She would not allow the memory to bring grief and longing.
Nope. Not today
. Today she would meet her mate. A moment she wished she could share with her parents.

Damn. Enough with the parental memories.
Think mate, think mate.

Allen thought the wounded were would be awake now, the pain pill’s effects worn off. Werewolf genetics sped the metabolism of pain medication, causing a dose that would tranquilize a human to burn through their bodies in a couple of hours. If luck held, the were, her alpha, her mate—that had a nice ring to it, mate—would be awake and able to tell her why he was here.

She seriously doubted Cupid sent him.

“How much farther, alpha?”

“Allen said the first door on the right once you’re through the double doors.” And as the double doors were right in front of them, Christmas had arrived. Margie grinned at her joke and slapped her palms against the bar, shoving the door open. Striding through first, she caught the door with the heel of her boot, holding it for Landa, who walked through hunched like a protective momma over the tray.

“We’re here.” Margie turned the handle and got her first glimpse of the wounded were in human form. Day-um, the male was hot. Even wounded and sporting a bandage wrapped around his muscular chest, he exuded a sensuality she felt herself drawn to. His hair was black, shot through with strands of silver and tan. Like a wolf pelt, not the silver of old age.

His eyes were closed, his nose long and aquiline, his cheekbones high and firm. A square jaw lined with thick stubble capped the rugged impression. His lower body lay under a sheet, leg bent at the knee, and she could see the outline of his rather impressive package.

Heat blossomed in her lower gut, warming her core, readying her for him. Oh right, like that was going to happen now.
Get a grip, Margie.
Damn overactive hormones, always popping up when they shouldn’t.

“Hello? Zane?” Margie took a step into the room, calling out his name. Zane. Allen told her his name when he updated her on his condition. Zane. According to fate, he belonged to her. Her skin heated and she closed her eyes. She did not need horny right now.

His eyes rolled open, amber depths staring at her in confusion. Maybe Allen was wrong, maybe it took this wolf longer to metabolize pain medication than it did her pack.

A soft brush of air heralded Landa’s arrival into the room.

“Hey, I—”

Crash
! Broken pieces of pottery shattered across the floor, soup splatters scattering to the corners of the room. Margie looked at the mess and then turned her gaze to Landa. Pale and trembling, Landa raised shaking hands to flutter over her mouth, her eyes wide as she stared at the male in the bed.

I’m so sorry, alpha
, Landa said telepathically before turning and hauling ass back down the corridor.

What the hell? Margie choked on the scent of fear that lingered in the room. One glance at the bed showed formerly sleepy eyes opened and narrowed. He yanked the covers back and she got a glimpse of his package. Oh yeah, she had to get some of that.

Holy shit, Margie, enough of the hormones.

Shaking her head, trying to clear it of thoughts of hot, slick sex with the werewolf in front of her, she pointed her finger at the alpha.

“Don’t move.”

She darted out of the room, slamming the door behind her and pushed the external locking mechanism. A heavy body crashed against the door, the handle rattling, but she was running, shoving through the double doors like they didn’t exist, following the sharp, acrid scent of fear down the corridor. Behind her she heard a howl, a shattering of the air. Good thing she had sense enough to lock Zane in his room until she figured out what was going on.