Ryan's Treasure (2 page)

She edged closer to the building outside the enclosure. The smell of animals and man tweaked her nose, edged by the more specific notes of birch and sage. She stopped and searched for the black wolf but saw no sign of him. The glass front door stood open to the slight breeze.

Taller and wider than any human she had ever seen before, an ebony godlike creature filled the opening. His broad shoulders almost touched both sides of the weathered wood frame, and his naked chest rippled with relaxed power whenever he took a swig from a ceramic cup. Gentleness, unexpected and enticing, emanated from the enormous man.

Humans cannot to be trusted
.

She eased to her belly and crawled beneath the tangled brush. Turning her head toward her flank, she curled her tail forward and breathed into the curve of her shoulder to mask her presence, waiting for the right moment. Her stomach growled, and she clenched her muscles to shut it up. The stranger turned toward the sound. Had he heard or was it coincidence? The sun drifted lower in the sky. The massive man came and went from his front porch, never failing to look her way as if sensing her presence hidden beneath the thick branches.

Time crept until dusk fell, blanketing the cabin and its surroundings. He stepped onto his stoop once more. A dark green uniform outlined his broad shoulders and bulging arms, making him even more imposing than he’d been half-naked. He glanced her way again then shook his head and strolled down the narrow dirt path to the enclosed compound.

On silent paws, she slipped into the relatively cool house. Her entire body ached. Sniffing the perimeter of the front room and on into the kitchen, she found no evidence of violence. Her trembling legs reminded her she might have escaped only to die from starvation or blood loss.

The smell of heaven drifted to her. A bowl of water, cool and fresh, sat at the base of a stool, beside it a large pan brimming with browned meat and rice. She drank and ate greedily. The moisture relieved some of the ache in her throat, and her stomach quieted with the satisfying meal. A silent apology to whomever she had stolen it from repeated in her head. Perhaps the food belonged to the black wolf. Would he forgive her greed?

Once her belly no longer demanded attention, exhaustion set in with vengeance, but she could not stretch upon the smooth tile for fear of getting caught. She left the way she had come, slipping from the house to find shelter. Come daylight, she would follow the trail of sage and birch to the black wolf whose gentleness filled her head with unimagined possibilities, despite the apprehension his size and strength generated.

She circled the simple cabin. No hiding place existed, obvious or otherwise. Finally, she found a small crack between the back wall and a large green tank. The smell of fuel oil burned her nose, but the tall grass around the base would hide her from prying eyes, and the stench would mask her scent. There she could rest. Her legs had begun to shake harder, making standing difficult. She crouched in the shadowed corner.

Remember the night lessons. Allow your second form to hide you in plain sight
. Sable’s command clawed at her meager comfort. She allowed her sister’s repeated instructions to fill her head.
Don’t be afraid. Your human is your protection. Embrace it and let it come
.

The white bitch willed her body to shed the shape she’d carried her entire life. Her second form would survive better in the ebony god’s world. A sick and wounded wolf could be shot without hesitation, but few humans would harm one of their own. Her fur fell away. Breath-stealing pain seared through her, bones elongated and tendons stretched. She fought for control but could not hold out against the unexpected agony. Her eyes fluttered closed, and darkness swept her to nothingness.

Chapter Three

The morning sun had barely topped the horizon by the time Ryan returned home. He’d spent the entire night worried about the unknown shifter who had lain outside his place most of the afternoon. Where was she and why did she hide? He’d set out food and water, hoping to gain a bit of trust. Still, she might have run, frightened beyond her ability to accept a hand.

He stepped onto his porch, and the sickly smell of unwashed fur assailed him. The scent remained too strong for her to have run far. Muddy paw prints trailed across the tile to the water dish he’d left for her. From there, the tracks led toward his office and disappeared. Was she in his house? Had she passed out alone and in pain?

Intent on discovering his visitor’s identity, he almost missed the scrape of booted heels on the front porch. He opened the door to the local Game, Fish and Parks officer. A pistol drawn at the man’s side didn’t bode well. Concerned, Ryan motioned him inside. “What’s up, Jeff?”

“You all right? Your neighbor down the way swore he saw a wolf slide in here last night when he was heading into Brecken.” As the man spoke, he eyed the muddy paw marks across the floor.

Ryan moved to stand between him and the kitchen. “I worked last night at the Sanctuary. I left the door open to cool the house down.”

The ranger shook his head. “Not a good idea. You don’t want to tangle with a trapped animal.”

“I know. There are tracks on the floor, but whatever slipped in is gone now. I just walked through, but if you’d like to look around….” With luck the officer would assume everything was as it should be.

The other man hesitated a moment, studying the dirty prints on the terracotta. “Nah, I should get on down the road. Take care and keep your door shut next time.”

“I will.” Ryan followed his visitor onto the porch. “Sorry to have bothered you, Jeff.”

Once the distinct GF&P truck rounded the bend in the main road, Ryan cautiously reentered his kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place. The shifter had disappeared although the stench of body odor and the heavy musk of fear hung in the air, too thick to be ignored. Searching the room, he found small signs of her presence. A dirt streak marked a chair leg and another smudged the door leading to his bedroom.

After a thorough search assured him the female had fled, Ryan moved to the yard. Native grasses lay mashed and bent beneath the thick brush. A small tuft of pure white fur clung to a low branch. No body heat remained.

“Where the hell did you go, girl?”

He rolled the silky fur between his fingers and lifted it to his nose. It reeked of the puppy mill they’d liberated the week before. Had the white bitch followed them somehow? Her frail form leaping toward a loaded weapon mixed with the memory of her faint cry as barbed wire slashed her shoulder and side. She’d been hurt protecting him. The thought angered him, but he pushed down the irrational emotion.

Nose to the slight breeze, he circled the house, hoping to find her without shifting. She had been afraid of his half stage, perhaps more so of his true form since she’d run at the first opportunity. He almost missed the long pale body lying beneath the propane tank, probably would have if her foot had not twitched to disturb the grass.

His gaze traveled over the breakable-looking woman. She slept on her stomach, one arm tucked gracefully beneath her cheek. The other lay beside her, palm up, delicate fingers curled. Dusty gold lashes curved above high cheekbones. Her mouth pressed against her wrist, muffling any sounds she might otherwise have made in her sleep.

Dirty but still nearly white-blonde hair spread around her shoulders and over her back, stopping a few inches above the too gentle curve of her butt. Deep ridges marked her rib cage, and her waist dipped painfully narrow before flaring out again to slender hipbones and down to long skinny legs.

“How long has it been since you had a decent meal?” The sound of his own voice surprised him, but she did not move.

Careful not to bump the many bruises dotting her emaciated form, Ryan slid his hands beneath her, hoisting her against his chest. She started then settled with a whimper.

The white bitch awoke pressed against a warm rock that smelled of heaven. When the haze of exhaustion faded, pain slammed through her, softened only by the solid arms cradling her thighs and back. She tipped her head slightly to study the square jaw and smoothly shaved head of the ebony god and felt oddly safe. A sentiment she had never known before nor expected. The rough fabric of his shirt caressed her cheek, and his heart beat beneath her ear in a gentle cadence.

He lifted her over the edge of a tub and eased her into a steaming bath. Hot water covered her shoulders, and she sighed appreciatively.

“Feels good, huh?” His deep voice rumbled, calming her further. He stripped off his shirt to reveal a chest of rippling muscle, so clean in comparison to her. With a half smile, he tossed the uniform top aside. “No need for us both to get soaked.”

Dirt crusted her hairless skin but could not disguise the many bruises, cuts, and scars. The few clean spots on her body pinkened with her discomfort.

The large man stepped behind her to the head of the tub. “Let’s get some of the dirt off, shall we?”

She hunched forward, hiding her hideous nakedness, but he started with her hair. Long fingers massaged her scalp, stroking over the strands top to bottom. Tension eased with his gentle touch. No one had ever been so kind.

“Tip your head back now so I don’t get shampoo in your eyes.”

The deep voice floated around her, almost unattached to the stranger. Water sluiced over her head and shoulders as he used a hose with a strange attachment to rinse away bubbles, gray with dirt.

“There that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He didn’t seem to expect an answer. Just as well, she had no strength to offer one anyway. The hot water and exhaustion sapped her dry.

Broad hands pumped liquid soap onto a scrap of cloth and smoothed it over her shoulders and down her spine. When he brushed the raw circle on her wrist, she winced and edged away.

“Easy…I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Pain overshadowed the odd combination of trust and dread she felt around him. The cloth moved over her body in a gentle caress, barely skimming the bruises and scrapes. Still, she gritted her teeth to stop the urge to scream. Soft as the cloth was, the fibers abraded sore spots. The god continued his benign chatter, enabling her to concentrate on the cadence of his voice rather than his large dark hands as they slid beneath her arms to wash her breasts and stomach.

He moved on to her thighs, and when he leaned forward, his bare chest pressed against her shoulders. His warmth competed with the hot water and sent a different kind of heat coiling through her until he washed the long cut along her side. Searing fire burned, sucking her breath away, and she could not restrain a cry.

His hands instantly left her. “Guess you’re clean enough.”

Before she could regain her composure, her feet hit the knobby rug. He gently patted her down with an incredibly fluffy towel. The new position made her head swim. Her muscles trembled and her heart raced. She clutched his massive arms, but her knees gave way, tossing her against his immovable mass.

Ryan caught the frail girl and swept her off her feet. “Whoa, I’ve got you.”

He could not understand how beings could be so cruel to one another. Clear fist marks marred the girl’s shoulders and cheekbone, and tiny white scars, obviously caused by some type of stick, blended with the raw red slashes covering her back. Despite her unusual height, she weighed very little. Her ribs and vertebrae pressed against his arm and palm. Whoever had hurt her must have kept her half-starved.

Her lashes flickered as he placed her in his bed. He tucked a fresh towel beneath her wet hair and turned down the light.

When he pulled the covers over her naked form, she offered a weak protest, pushing the sheet away. He left it at her waist. Settling in a nearby chair, he stroked her forearm until exhaustion overtook her and her wary eyes fluttered shut. Once she relaxed, he covered her thin shoulders then dug his cell from his pocket and hit auto dial two.

Kya answered on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I have a visitor you need to take a look at.”

“Can’t Harry handle it?”

The girl fussed and moaned in her sleep. He slipped from the room. “If it was something he could handle, I’d have called him, and Grant’s out of town.”

“Why are you whispering? I can hardly hear you.”

He growled at her stupid question. “She’s sleeping. Are you coming or not?”

“I’ll be right there. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Make it ten.”

Pacing the bedroom, he watched the girl for signs of discomfort. The moment he heard Kya’s car, he flew outside to carry her medical supplies. “Took you long enough.”

She lifted her phone and showed him the time of his call. “Less than fifteen minutes. That must be a record.”

He took a large box out of her arms and nudged her forward. “You’ll never get anything done if I argue with you.”

She walked ahead of him into the house but turned when she reached the living room. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so crabby. Where’s the creature who put you in a tizzy, brother dear?”

He stepped around her and led Kya into his bedroom. “I gave her a bath and tried to clean the dirt from the scratch on her side, but that’s where I ran out of know-how.”

Kya stepped to the bed and picked up their patient’s bony wrist. After a moment, she shook her head. “Her pulse is slow. Could be a sign of dehydration.” She rummaged in the box a moment then handed him a bag of saline. “Hang this up somewhere.” She slid an IV needle into the crook of the girl’s elbow and readied a syringe.

“What are you giving her?” He jerked a painting off the wall and carefully looped the grommet hole over the protruding nail.

“Medetomidine hydrochloride. It should dull the pain and allow her to sleep while I examine her fully.”

Brushing a wayward tear from the girl’s cheek, he studied her delicate form. Her chest barely moved with her breathing. “Is she strong enough for it?”

“She’s weak, but I used a low dose. We’ll keep an eye on her.” Kya flipped on the overhead light and tugged back the covers. Their exhausted patient remained still. His sister bent over the bed and examined the numerous cuts and bruises. “What am I going to do with you?”