Untamed Hearts (BBW Biker Werewolf Romance) (8 page)

Now wasn’t the time to figure out what was wrong with the guy anyway. Adrian’s voice had risen, his tirade continuing. If Gunner didn’t do something, chances were pretty good Adrian would hurt Claire again.

Gunner waited until Adrian’s back was to him, then crept to the edge of the trail. He tensed, watching, waiting. Adrian was yelling at Claire now, his face close to hers. Claire was still on her knees, hunched over, looking up at Adrian.

As Gunner slowly circled behind Adrian, Claire glanced up. She gave a small gasp, eyes widening, then snapped her eyes back to Adrian.

But it was enough to get Adrian’s attention. Gunner growled a curse, then did the only thing he could do. He tensed, back legs coiled like a spring. Digging in, pushing off, he launched himself at Adrian.

* * *

A
drian’s rants were growing more and more incoherent as he paced in front of Claire. Somewhere in all his yelling, he’d accused her of not only leaving him at the altar but of being the one responsible for the downfall of his entire pack, that his father blamed him for all of it.

None of it made much sense, but what was clear was he was angry and all of it was directed at her.

He paced and ranted and she watched him warily, waiting for him to start hitting her or worse. His dirty shirt was stained yellow under the arms and clung to his chest, and trickles of perspiration ran down his forehead. He impatiently swiped a forearm across his face, wiping the sweat from his eyes.

Movement behind Adrian distracted her. Gunner was there on the path, coiled, ready. A sound escaped her and she tried to bite it back, tearing her eyes away from Gunner as if it would make him invisible. But Adrian heard her. His tirade cut off in midsentence. He cocked his head, brows furrowed.

Gunner lunged and for a moment, everything slowed down, Gunner’s taut, muscular body suspended in mid-air, teeth bared. His attack was completely silent, and the sheer power in that attack took Claire’s breath away.

Recognition flashed in Adrian’s eyes and he made a half-turn, taking a step to the side, leaning away from the attack. It took Adrian just far enough out of Gunner’s range that Gunner missed the mark and hit Adrian in the shoulder instead. Gunner was thrown off balance, front paws scrabbling in empty air before he hit the ground hard.

Gunner drew a shaky breath, and she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. He was hurt, but when? Then she remembered Adrian’s kick to Gunner’s body back at the cabin. Somehow, in half-human form, Adrian had injured Gunner, apparently seriously.

Her thoughts raced beyond Gunner; what was wrong with Adrian? He was cold and calculating, the Adrian she remembered. Then he was out of control one minute, raving mad, then half-human the next with the strength of a shifter. His breath, his whole body, smelled foul, and he was sweating like a pig. Was he crazy or was something really wrong, physically wrong, with him?

Adrian spun around, eyes locked on Gunner, Claire forgotten. Gunner scrambled to his feet, the pain in his eyes replaced with a fierce anger. A rough, guttural noise from Adrian caught her attention and she watched him, eyes widening.

“Oh my God.”

Adrian was changing, finally. But something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Claire had seen Adrian change many times. He certainly wasn’t handsome in human form, but when he shifted, he became a compact, extremely powerful wolf. Now, something else was happening. And it wasn’t very pretty.

His limbs elongated, arms and legs contorting at odd angles, bones and tendons snapping and cracking. It looked...and sounded... hideously painful, a horrible imitation of a shifter changing. As she watched, Adrian threw his head back, a shrill cry coming from his mouth. Even Gunner seemed momentarily distracted by the awful display happening on the forest floor.

Head back, Adrian let loose one final shriek before his body resolved into its final form, legs misshapen, body distorted. His blond coat was coarse and matted, the stench rolling off of him in waves. He gave himself a final shake, his oversized head swinging on a long gangly neck.

The two wolves glared at each other, hackles raised. Claire scrambled away from the pair, hands scraping through the dirt and leaves at the edge of the path. But neither looked in her direction. They were locked on to each other, circling, stiff-legged, mirroring the movements of the other.

It was Adrian who made the first move, seemingly unable to contain himself. A low, ugly growl ripped from his throat as he dove at Gunner. His speed was incredible, even for a shifter, but his attack was clumsy, rushed, off balance. He hit Gunner at a sharp angle, his body sliding alongside Gunner’s, almost deflected by the larger wolf’s mass.

Gunner turned, clamping his jaws down on the back of Adrian’s neck with a terrible crunch. With a screech, Adrian threw his head back, jaws snapping the air over his shoulder. Gunner bore down, driving Adrian’s forelegs into the ground.

Claire rose to her knees. It was all over, it had to be. She knew the power in a shifter’s jaws could snap the neck of any living thing, human or shifter. Adrian’s neck was thin, weak-looking. And Gunner was an immensely powerful wolf.

But it wasn’t over. She watched in horror as Adrian twisted beneath Gunner, kicking out with his back legs, hitting Gunner in the midsection. Gunner let go of Adrian, doubling over with a coughing grunt. Adrian scuttled away. Claire’s heart sank. Gunner was injured. Adrian knew it, and he’d landed a sucker punch on Gunner’s injured ribs.

But Adrian was injured, too. Claire watched blood well out of wounds on his neck, darkening the blond fur, dripping onto the ground. He shook his head, whining low in his throat.

Gunner straightened, turned, gained his feet, and charged. He hit Adrian in his flank, teeth sinking into Adrian’s soft underbelly. Adrian bellowed, head flung back, catching the edge of Gunner’s ear in his mouth. Claire winced as teeth ripped through flesh and blood poured down the side of Gunner’s head.

But Gunner held on, twisting his head, driving forward with his back legs, pushing Adrian across the path, Adrian’s claws scrabbling in the dirt and leaves. Claire shuddered as Gunner slammed Adrian against the trunk of a tree. There was a sickening crack and Adrian yelped in pain, thrashing violently in Gunner’s grip.

There was a wild scramble of fur and legs, teeth and claws, and then Claire watched in horror as Adrian wrenched himself free from Gunner’s jaws. His body writhed and in horror, she realized he was shifting back to human form, his body wavering between the two. Blood ran from gashes in his side and neck, and where the patchy matted fur gave way to human skin, she saw bruises, deep and bloody. One front leg was held at an awkward angle, and Claire thought she saw the white ends of bone protruding from dirty fur. Nausea and revulsion washed through her, but she never took her eyes off Adrian.

Adrian turned toward Claire, one hand now clenched in a fist. She cringed as he advanced, his jaw full of cruel teeth snapping at her, the upper part of his face slipping into human form. For one heart-stopping instant she met his eyes, full of rage—and insanity.

“Claire...I’m not done with you yet...”

Her name, choked out in that horrible half-growl, half-human voice, chilled her to the bone.

Then he was gone, the underbrush rustling. She watched, ears straining, picking up the dwindling sounds as he moved away, followed by silence.

“Claire?”

She turned. Gunner was crouched on the path, the side of his head bloody, more blood covering his arms and the side of his body. A deep purple bruise covered the lower side of his chest.

“Gunner!” She knelt beside him, tentatively extending her hand, not sure where the blood ended and Gunner began. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good. It’s worse than it looks. It’ll heal.” He looked up, eyes searching her face.

“But we need to get out of here, get me some clothes, make sure you’re okay.” He looked at her leg. “Can you walk? I can carry you...”

“I’m okay, I can walk. But what about Adrian?”

“I don’t think Adrian is coming back, at least for a while. He’s got deeper wounds to lick than I do.”

He stood, taking her hand, scanning the forest. Then he pointed toward the ridgeline. “The cabin is just above us on the trail. It’s the closest place.”

“I
t’s okay. Come on in.” Gunner’s voice sounded from deep inside the cabin.

Claire stepped through the ruined doorway. Gunner was across the room, pulling on jeans he’d grabbed from his backpack.

“I need to fix this...” He gestured toward the broken door. “There’s some plywood underneath the cabin. Wait here.”

Before she could say anything, he was out the door. She turned toward the big window. From here, the trail they’d just climbed was visible as a faint line across the meadow. She watched it anxiously, expecting Adrian to appear, half-changed, covered in matted fur and blood, running toward the cabin. Gunner’s words that Adrian’s wounds were bad gave her cold comfort.

She jumped at the noise behind her, an involuntary cry coming from her lips. Gunner was wrestling a large sheet of plywood into the cabin. He propped it over the doorway, blocking out the sunlight streaming in, and began hammering huge nails through the wood into the cabin walls. 

Gunner stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “There. That should slow down anyone...or anything...that wants to get in, at least for a few minutes.”

Turning to Claire, he pantomimed twirling the hammer like an old West gunslinger before sliding it into an imaginary holster alongside his leg. Some of the tension in her body dissolved, and she laughed. It felt good.

“We need to get you cleaned up, Gunner. You’re still bleeding.” She moved across the room, taking him by the arm. He dropped the hammer on the kitchen table as she pulled him toward the bathroom, tugging on his hand.

“It’s nothing. It’s already starting to heal.” He tugged back, protests continuing. “You’re bleeding worse than I am.”

She stopped and looked down at her bloody jeans. “Oh. I forgot about that. It doesn’t hurt anymore though.” Looking up, she smiled. “Like you say, it’s already starting to heal.”

“Well, then...” He dug his heels in, mule-like, stopping their progress down the short hallway.

“Yeah, but you’re still a mess.” She pulled harder, and he finally followed her down the hall and into the bathroom, where he perched on the edge of the sink.

“There’s stuff in there.” He nodded toward a cabinet in the corner of the room. “Pretty much everything you’ll need.”

Claire opened the door, startled by the array of boxes stocking the shelves. She turned to Gunner with a grin.

“Expecting Armageddon? Or a zombie attack?” She pulled a bottle of alcohol and a package of gauze off one of the shelves, tearing open the wrapper with her teeth.

“None of those. But my dad raised a boy.” He shrugged, watching as she poured alcohol on the gauze. “I climbed a lot of trees...and fell out of them.”

“This is going to sting.” Claire took a step toward him and started dabbing the gauze against the bite on his ear. Gunner made a face as he pulled away, wincing.

“Don’t be a baby, Gunner. You just fought off Adrian. You can handle a little rubbing alcohol.” Holding his face steady with one hand, she resumed cleaning the wounds.

She leaned forward, eyes traveling over his ear and the side of his face. True to his shifter nature, his wound was already beginning to heal, the blood left behind mostly dry.

“It’s already healing. Looks clean...”

Claire was suddenly aware of the nearness of Gunner’s body, the heat of his skin, and the fact that her blouse still hung open. She raised her eyes, not surprised to find him looking at her. The breath caught in her throat and she dropped the gauze in the sink.

“Am I healed?” His voice was a low rumble, his lips turning up at one corner in a deliciously wicked smile...a smile that started a wave of equally delicious heat sliding through her limbs.

“Yeah. But you’re still a mess.” She let her eyes drift from his face, over his chest, then lower, and she found herself biting her lip. Bringing her eyes back to his, she matched his smile. The heat was winding through her now, a lazy snake of desire coiling in her belly.

“So what should we do about my...mess?” Gunner reached out, tracing a finger along her hairline. The simple gesture sent a shiver through her.

“Well...” She looked over her shoulder. “There is a shower in here, you know. A big one, with lots of hot water.”

“I’m all for good, clean fun.”

He held her gaze for a moment. “You ready for this? You know, this time, once we start, I’m not going to stop.”

There was something that held her back from what she knew was on Gunner’s mind, and hers. “What about Adrian? Will he come back, do you think?”

Straightening his shoulders, Gunner drew a deep breath. “I don’t think so. And I’m not saying that just to get you between the sheets.”

Claire managed a small smile. “I don’t think you’re that desperate to get me into bed, no. Why do you think he’s not coming back?”

Gunner slid off the sink, his body close to hers. She drew a breath and got hit with a wave of Gunner’s scent, a mix of sweat and blood and arousal. It was a primal and potent combination. Her body reacted, heart taking off at breakneck pace.

“I have a theory...but it’s a bit complicated. Can you trust me that we’re safe?” He looked down at her, and in those blue depths she knew she’d found the answer.

“Yeah. I can. I trust you, Gunner.”

He smiled then, and it took her by surprise. It wasn’t the slow, lazy, sensual smile she had expected. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a smile of relief.

“So, Nurse Betty, about getting me cleaned up.”

Before she could answer, he lowered his head, his lips finding hers. It was the only contact between them, but it was all-consuming. His lips moved over hers, gentle but insistent, hinting at where he wanted to take her, where he wanted her to take him.

Claire rose up on her toes, seeking more from Gunner, wanting the kiss to be deeper. But Gunner kept her reaching, kept her on her toes, teasing her. His mouth curved against hers and she knew he was smiling at her frustration. Well, then, she’d just take matters into her own hands.