Dual Embrace: 3 (Shadowpeak Wolves) (3 page)

He howled but didn’t budge. Instead, he placed his hands around her throat, choking her.

“Need some help, hellcat?”

“No,” she gasped. Stretching her hand down, she wiggled her leg up a little and grabbed the knife from her boot.

Black dots filled the edge of her vision as she drove the blade deep into the fat biker’s buttock.

He squealed, reaching back frantically for the knife. Dusty shoved him off her. High-pitched, piglike noises filled the parking lot as he pulled the knife from his ass, holding it out in front of him.

“You bitch. You knifed me in the ass!”

“Calm down, it only hit fat.” Still lying on the ground, Dusty braced herself as he grew purple with fury.

“I’m going to kill you.” He stood, taking a step toward her. Her blond friend grabbed him by the neck, throwing the bigger man through the air with surprising ease.

After that, he didn’t move.

Dusty frowned. “I didn’t need your help.”

“He was giving me a headache. You know, you really should’ve been watching out for him.”

She glared, breathing heavily. “What are you?” she asked between clenched teeth. Her leg burned, lashes of pain screaming through her body. She didn’t want to move, let alone stand.

“Nothing you have ever met before. Now shall we get a move on?”

She gaped at him for a moment, amazed by how calm he sounded.

“And people think I’m crazy. No, we are not going to leave. I don’t have any idea who or what you are and I don’t want to know. You go. By yourself.” She was going to have to drag herself to her Jeep. Walking was not an option right now.

“Really? And how exactly are you going to move? Can you grow wings and fly? Or are you planning on dragging yourself around and hoping no one else assaults you? Because you know, with your people skills it’s only a matter of time before someone else decides to attack you.”

She growled.

He smiled and held out his hand. Reluctantly she grabbed hold, letting him help her rise.

“Have you seen my walking stick?” she asked.

“I’ll get it,” he offered, leaving her side.

“No, don’t—” She reached a hand out, needing his help to balance herself. She felt herself falling, her weight moving onto her bad leg, which immediately protested, agony seizing her body, striking fast. Everything around her blurred and swirled as the ground rushed up to meet her.

* * * * *

“I’m going to puke,” Dusty gasped. Her stomach rolled from a mixture of pain and way too much whiskey.

“Hmm, not the usual reaction from a woman in my bed, but then you’re not a usual woman, are you, hellcat?” His words were calm, unhurried, but he lifted her, carrying her swiftly into a large bathroom. Not a minute too soon either as the whiskey-laden contents of her stomach came riding up. Intense cramps shook her as she threw up.

Finally—shaky, sweaty and weak—she managed to take a decent breath. He easily held her up from the toilet bowl with an arm across her chest, his other hand holding back her hair.

“Hmm, what a waste of whiskey.” He set her on the cool bathroom floor.

“You know, a little sympathy wouldn’t go astray.”

“You don’t want sympathy,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You have had more than enough of that. It would only annoy you.”

“How do you know that?” she asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard to work out, hellcat. Obviously, you’ve hurt your leg recently. And you don’t seem like a woman who would accept being injured, nor would you wish to suffer others’ pity.”

Alarm bells rang in her head but she couldn’t focus her brain. “Think you’re smart, don’t you?”

“Here.” He filled a glass with water and held it out for her, along with some pills. She sipped the water slowly while staring at the drugs suspiciously.

“They are merely from the packet in your pocket.”

“You searched my pockets?” What else had he done while she’d been out cold?

He shrugged, grinning unrepentantly.

Well, they did look like her pills. And with the pain in her leg reaching screaming point, she was willing to take almost anything to make it stop.

Dusty accepted the pills, swallowing them down quickly. A cool washcloth covered her face as he wiped her cheeks and forehead.

She should have objected, would have objected if it hadn’t felt like absolute heaven on earth.

“Think we can move back to the bedroom? I doubt you have much left in your stomach to throw up.”

Wincing, she nodded. Jeez, had she finally reached rock bottom? Drunk in what appeared to be a motel room, with a crazy man who looked like every woman’s dream. Oh, and he was probably a figment of her imagination… Yep, sounded as though she was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Lifting her easily, he carried her back into the bedroom, laying her on the bed. She tried to move away, not wanting him close. Her breath had to be funky and she probably looked worse than those sluts in the bar.

“You’re certainly introducing me to a number of firsts, hellcat. You are the first unconscious woman I’ve ever carried to my bedroom. You’re also the first person I’ve ever held as they threw up.” He had a puzzled, almost fascinated look on his face. She had no idea what was so interesting about watching someone puke, but shrugged it off.

“You’re insane, right? Crazy, whacko,” she mumbled. She knew she was rambling, but a combination of exhaustion, an empty stomach and the pills she’d just ingested were making
her
a little crazy.

“That so?”

Her eyes drifted closed. Popping them back open, she saw him still standing there, staring down at her.

“I’m not a freak show, you know,” she mumbled.

He laughed as her lids dropped. “Well, you are a werewolf. Some would argue that makes you a freak by definition.”

“You got something against werewolves? Are you a member of HAW?” She tried to sound angry, attempting to sit so she could confront him. But her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Members of Humans Against Werewolves were the scum of the earth, men and women who believed that there was room only for purebred humans on earth. No werewolves need apply.

“No, hellcat. I have nothing against freaks. I’m not a hypocrite.”

She couldn’t stay awake long enough to ask him what the hell he was talking about. Or how he knew she was a werewolf.

Or even what his real name was.

* * * * *

Caught in that dreamy place between deep sleep and consciousness, Dusty snuggled into the person lying next to her, shivering a little at the unexpected coolness.

Rubbing against the undeniably male body, she let out a breath that was half sigh, half whimper. The urge to taste him, to touch him, was overwhelming. She had no strength to fight it. Her pulse raced, the walls of her sheath clenching.

Desire rode her hard, swirling through her blood, stealing her mind. She was hungry and the feel of him next to her called to her.

A rich, deep, smoky scent filled her senses, moving with lazy intent through her body. Drugged by his scent, she couldn’t hold herself back.

Mesmerized, Dusty kissed across his shoulders. She moved down his back, smoothing her way with her mouth, nipping creamy skin. Reaching his buttocks, she cupped them, licking the line where his cheeks met. He stiffened then groaned before rolling over and grabbing her hands, tugging them back.

“I really don’t want to stop you, but I feel I have to.”

Dusty shook her head, tugging at her hands. She wanted to touch him, why wouldn’t he let her touch him?

“How odd. I’m doing something that doesn’t benefit me. I wonder if this is what having a conscience feels like?”

Dusty slammed into consciousness, the fog of need surrounding her thinning.

What the hell am I doing?

She rolled away, pulling free.

“Fuck!”

Sitting, she scrambled up the bed until her back hit the headboard. Dusty bent her good leg, clasping it against her chest in a defensive position.

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“Actually, you are in my bed.”

“I was sick.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heartbeat, to fight against the desire still raging through her body. “You could have slept on the couch.”

He shrugged, his wicked grin lighting her insides. “The couch is uncomfortable, and I like to be comfortable.”

How did he manage to make the word comfortable sound so, well, erotic?

“Besides, this is my bed and you’re in it. How could I stay away?”

“You could have tried.”

“And miss feeling your skin against mine? The way you sigh when you are aroused? I don’t think so.”

“That was a mistake, I was asleep, dreaming.” She turned to climb from the bed when he clasped her hand, pulling her back.

“Some dream.” He winked then grew suddenly serious. “Stay. I’m leaving. You need to get some sleep.”

She glared. “Now you leave?”

He nodded and stood. “I am no saint, hellcat. Believe me, if you were any other woman I would have taken what you offered without a second thought.” His voice sounded puzzled, surprised. “This is all very odd. I think I should go.”

“Go where? Who are you?”

He drew on his clothes. How he managed to look so sleek and unwrinkled this early in the morning was beyond her. She glimpsed down at her own clothes. Yep, she was a mess.

As she raised her face, he caught her by surprise, his lips taking hers in a kiss that flowed through her body. Her eyelids drooped, her world narrowing to the pleasure swimming through her blood.

“What’s your real name?” she whispered and opened her eyes.

Only to find she was alone.

When Dusty woke, sun was streaming in the uncovered windows, mockingly cheerful as it danced about the room. She held her palms up against her eyes, desperately willing her throbbing headache to dissipate.

Memories of last night flooded her brain and she groaned. Cautiously, she opened her eyes.

Nope, he wasn’t there. It had to have been a dream.

Dusty gazed around the room, disoriented. It was a typical motel room—stark, minimally furnished and white. Too white. The glare assaulted her eyes, adding to the pain stabbing her head. A small-screen TV rested on the wall in front of her. In one corner of the room sat a table and two chairs.

“Urgh, got to stop taking those pain pills.”

The pills combined with the whiskey had obviously triggered a hallucination, as well as wiping out pieces of her memory.

Except the only pills she’d taken yesterday had been the ones he’d handed her. So how could she explain dreaming him up before she’d taken the pills?

Shit.

There was no sign of the mysterious stranger. No lingering scent of spicy smoke, no indent in the pillow, no sock lost in his rush to leave before she woke.

It was as though he’d never been here.

“Because he was never here,” she muttered.

After slowly rising to her feet, she limped into the bathroom, stopping to glance at the folio lying on the table.

Wild Oak Motel.

Okay, so at least she knew where she was. That was a start. Leaning against the hand basin, she stared into the mirror, grimacing.

Urgh, it was as she’d suspected.

Look at me, I’m a mess. I look like I’ve been on a five-day bender to Vegas, I’m fast becoming a drunk and a druggie, I’m having hallucinations, I’m a cripple and worst of all, I’m not even a wolf anymore, and that last bit, that’s just between you and me.

Okay, she was totally losing it now.

All she had to contribute to the pack was her fighting abilities, her skills as an enforcer. If she couldn’t do that, then she was a liability, a leech. She shook her head.

I have got to stop feeling sorry for myself. Buck up and think. How the hell am I going to get to my Jeep?

She limped to the window. Nope, her Jeep wasn’t in the parking lot. Wishful thinking.

Moving back into the bedroom, she searched her pockets, finding a stick of gum, a packet of pain relievers and three quarters in change.

“No taxi for me. And I have got to stop talking to myself like this. It’s freaky.”

Who to call? Any of her packmates would come—it was just a question of who would annoy her least. She really didn’t want to deal with disapproving looks or lectures today.

Her first thought was Cain. Guilt swirled in her stomach. She’d made no commitment to him. Why should she feel guilty?

She’d been running from her feelings for him for a long time. Last night the urge to go to him, to have him fuck her every which way she could dream of had almost gotten the better of her. She was tired of pushing him away, tired of denying her feelings.

Just tired.