Trapped With A Luna Werewolf

ChapterThree

Nita’s shoulder burned like it was on fire. Her left temple throbbed and she willed sleep to reclaim her. A gentle rocking motion brought a tremor of nausea to her stomach.

Where was she? Almost afraid to open her eyes, she took a deep breath and winced at the pain in her ribs. She was wrapped up, warm, her cheek nestled against something soft and fuzzy. Whatever it was, it smelled like cologne and man and earth.

Breathing, she quickly found, hurt and she didn’t dare move, but she let herself, just for a moment, soak in the feeling of security. It felt so good she almost wept. She needed that glimpse of hope, however misguided, more than her next breath.

But weeping would expend energy she didn’t have. And it’d probably hurt like hell too.

She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself. One thing she was absolutely sure of security didn’t last.

She chanced opening her eyes. Damn. Startling white filled her vision, making her temple throb all the more. She glimpsed the luxurious interior of a vehicle and the back of a man’s head before she squeezed her eyes shut. The aches and pains bombarding her body brought the last few hours rushing back and tears swam behind her eyelids. She bit her lips to keep from crying out.

Panic turned to helplessness. For the first time since she’d run out of her parents house a week ago, she wasn’t in control. How was she going to get out of this? How would she survive with her powers bound? How could—

Her breath caught on a sob and searing pain sliced through her. Exhausted and powerless, she didn’t even try to fight the darkness as it claimed her.

Spencer parked the Range Rover in the cabin’s garage. The rustic beauty looked just as it had nine months ago. He surveyed the dim interior before pressing the button that closed the large door behind him. He hadn’t heard a peep from his new passenger, which suited him just fine. Once the howling wind and spiraling snow were locked outside two florescent lights flickered on overhead, struggling in the cold. Spencer surveyed the shadowy space one more time before reaching for the door handle. Years of looking over his shoulder had taught him to be cautious.

Everyone had enemies, especially werewolves.

lucky rested his head on the rear seat, watching Nita with steady brown eyes. She slept, oblivious to the turmoil outside. There was something so innocent about her. Spencer knew he’d be better off if he didn’t pay attention to that innocence. His days of rescuing damsels in distress were over.

Spencer let Lucky out the rear door before gathering Nita in his arms as carefully as he could, cradling her against his chest. As he started for the door her head settled against his shoulder and he resisted the overwhelming urge to stare down at her face.

The more he looked at her, the more he’d memorize her features. And he knew from past experience that once his mind had locked in her image, he’d see her everywhere, sleeping or awake. Already he felt a shift within himself, like his life had altered courses and he’d never get back to where he was going.

Her unique womanly scent mixed with that of her blood and wafted into his nostrils.

He would get her inside, get her settled, and try calling for help every fifteen minutes if he had to. And once he was done with his stent as a Good Samaritan, he’d be able to relax.

Climbing the stairs, he wondered with each step how his timing could be so rotten. Was the universe conspiring against him?

He huffed out a sigh at the idiotic thought.

Of course it was. The universe, fate, the devil himself had been conspiring against him for the better part of 250 years. He’d learned to keep his head down, his nose clean, and say no to distractions.

After wrestling the door open at the top of the stairs and juggling the pixie in his arms, a blast of warm air enveloped him. Thank goodness for small favors. His housekeeper had gotten here before the storm to turn the heat on. Who knew how long before the storm killed the power, but he’d certainly enjoy it right now.