Awakened By The Wolf

Brice palmed Cassie’s back, and she leaned into him for support. Yes, it was a moment of weakness. The stress of the past few days had left her bone-tired. What harm could come from siphoning a little of Brice’s strength?

“Granny, what did Doc say about your condition?” Brice’s somber voice clashed with Margaret’s serene expression.

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” Margaret said. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”

A brittle smile formed on Cassie’s lips. Imogene had said that, too.

Chapter 8 (#ulink_bf2723a0-ccd4-51c6-a997-b0c88a48efa8)

“I am not sleeping with you.” Pillow and comforter in hand, Cassie attempted to navigate the formidable obstacle blocking the door.

Although they were both adults, as Brice readily pointed out, sharing the bed was an unreasonable demand. Hadn’t she done enough for him already?

“This isn’t a negotiation.” From the strong set of Brice’s jaw, she could tell he meant it.

“Glad you agree. Now move.”

Brice waved toward the mattress. “This is a perfectly good bed.”

“And you’re the one sleeping in it, unless you changed your mind about your grandmother’s room.” Cassie hugged her bedding to her chest.

“A Wahya male doesn’t sleep in a female relative’s bed. It’s just wrong.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping in Margaret’s room, either.” Heaven forbid if something went missing. People would blame Cassie even if Margaret didn’t.

“Then it’s settled.” Brice’s hard expression softened.

Cassie stood tall. Well, as tall as her five-foot-two figure could against a mountain. “I’ll take the couch.”

“You aren’t sleeping anywhere except next to me.” Brice snatched the pillow and comforter from her clutches. “Got it?”

“If I had known that you were so bossy, I would’ve run faster.” She grabbed the bedding he’d confiscated. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Cassidy Albright, get your ass in that bed before I pick you up and drop you in it.” Brice delivered a growl so low and menacing that chills bungeed down Cassie’s spine.

She jumped into bed. “You’ve had your shots, right? Distemper, parvo.” She paused to fluff her pillow and straighten the comforter over the sheet. “Rabies?”

Brice snickered. He probably thought she was kidding.

The lights went out. Followed by a rustle of clothes. A second later, the mattress moved beneath his weight.

“Stay on your side of the bed.” Turning her back to him, Cassie scooted toward the edge of the mattress. She tucked her hand beneath her pillow and tried to ignore the jitters of sleeping next to a man—a naked man, at that—for the first time. “And don’t hog the covers. I hate waking up cold.”

Brice shoved his side of the comforter at her.

She tensed, waiting for him to move closer to sniff her. He lay so still, so quiet, Cassie decided he’d fallen asleep until she heard the soft catch in his breathing.

“What’s wrong?”

“My leg hurts,” he snapped, and then groaned. “It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”

She reached to turn on the nightstand lamp and remembered that she had smashed it on the floor.

“Where are you going?” The brush of Brice’s fingers down her back caused an electric current to course through her body. Cassie wished she wouldn’t react to him the way she did. She prided herself on keeping her emotions in check, particularly around men.

Then again, Brice was a different breed altogether.

“Don’t worry. I’m not running away.” She flipped on the overhead light.

Brice’s right leg stuck out from beneath the sheet. The calf had swollen to almost twice the normal size, the skin a reddish-purple, the scar almost black. He crooked an arm over his eyes.

“How did it get this bad?” she shrieked.

“Well, let’s see.” He ticked the count on his fingers as he recapped the night’s adventures. “Now that I think about it, the last half hour standing and debating you is what did me in.” The acerbic bite in his voice bounced off Cassie’s thick skin.

“Don’t blame me for your pigheadedness. If you had let me sleep in the living room, you’d be fast asleep by now.”

“I doubt it.” He moved his arm away from his face. Pain, sadness and a certain wistfulness that Cassie recognized as loneliness churned in his gaze.

Alienated from his family and his pack, and worried about his grandmother, Brice sought companionship. That’s why he’d forced her to go to the hospital. Why he insisted they share a bed. He didn’t want to be alone.

Cassie empathized, though sleeping together was going a bit overboard.

“Come back to bed.” Brice started to get up. “I’ll watch TV in the living room.”

“Stay put.” She used a pillow to elevate his leg. “I’ll get some aspirin.”

“I took some before we went to the hospital. They didn’t help.”

“I’ll fix you something,” she said, leaving the room.

“Nothing ever works,” he moaned.

Cassie grabbed three clean bath towels and headed to the kitchen. Heating a large stockpot of water until it boiled, she added a healthy dose of dried rosemary, then turned off the burner. Next she swirled a towel in the hot water, placed a lid on the pot and left it to steep.

Brice opened one eye when she lifted his leg to place one of the two remaining clean towels over the pillow. She poured a little olive oil into her hands and drizzled some over his leg.

“Closet cannibal or kinky fetishist?” The lackluster gleam in his eyes muted his cocky grin.

“This might hurt at first, but you’ll feel better when I’m done.” At least, she hoped he would. She could almost feel his agony throbbing in her own body as she kneaded the muscles above his knee.

“Ooh, S and M.” Brice’s fingers touched his lips. “Miss Albright, I’m shocked.”

Cassie was, too, as heat flooded her body. Ignoring his tease would’ve been easier if Brice wasn’t flat on his back with a thin sheet accentuating every angle and line of his naked body. Her attention gravitated to the tent over his groin, and just that quickly, her common sense evaporated, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable.

She need to proceed carefully. Brice Walker had the power to turn her stupid. To make her want things she couldn’t have. Things that would wreck her life if she stopped to pursue them.

His keen, smoldering gaze caressed her face and feathered down her chest to cup her breasts. If she hadn’t seen his hands—one stashed behind his head, the other draped across his stomach—she would’ve sworn on her mother’s urn that his fingers pinched her nipples. Exquisitely sensitive, the tight buds stung from straining against her shirt.