Werewolves In Love: Ready To Run Part 7

Had she pa.s.sed out? Was she drowning?

Way to go, dumba.s.s. Leave the drunk chick in the shower all by herself.

"Sara?" he called a little louder. When he still got no answer, he banged on the door a couple times. "Sara! Answer me!" Jiggling the doork.n.o.b, he saw it wasn't locked and pounded on the door one more time. "Sara, answer me or I'm coming in."

He waited one more second, then barged in.

She didn't look up when he jerked the shower curtain aside. With her arms wrapped around her legs and her head on her knees, she sat huddled and motionless at the end of the tub, barely out of range of the ice cold water pouring from the shower. She was s.h.i.+vering, whether from cold or shock he couldn't tell.

He leaned in to turn off the water, then grabbed a thin towel and dropped to his knees beside the tub. "Sara? Come on, time to get out."

She still didn't answer. As he was deciding she'd gone truly catatonic this time, she turned her face to him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks splotchy. The look of exhausted misery on her sweet face squeezed his heart.

"There's something wrong with me," she whispered abjectly.

"You need a doctor? I'll find an emergency room. Come on." He took her arms to pull her up, but she didn't move.

"No," she protested weakly, taking a gulp of air and shuddering. "Not like that. Not- I mean- I'm not sad."

"What?" Tending to a drunk, naked, traumatized fae chick in the bathroom of a cheap motel was way outside his skill set.

"I'm scared, and I'm worried, and- And- And-" she took a few more gulps of air to quell the hiccups. "And I miss my friends, but- But I'm not sad. About my family. They're all dead, and I don't feel sad. I just- I just-" Her delicate features crumpled into a pained grimace as she wailed, "I just keep thinking about how I'm finally free and they can't do anything to scare me anymore and I don't have to worry about people finding out, and I can't even feel sorry for an old woman who got murdered! What kind of monster am I?"

"Oh s.h.i.+t," he muttered, smoothing the wet hair back from her face. He'd never felt dumber or more useless in his life. "Come on now, you can't stay in here."

This time, when he took her arm and pulled her up, she didn't fight him. She gave a little gasp when he swung her up and over the side of the tub to set her on her feet, but she stood quietly, head bowed, as he briskly dried her off. Then he pulled her into a fierce embrace, laying his head against her wet, fragrant hair.

"There's nothing wrong with you," he said gruffly. "There was something wrong with them. They didn't love you. They used you and they hurt you. Maybe your grandmother didn't deserve to be murdered, but she doesn't deserve to be missed, either. Neither do your a.s.shole uncles." He kissed the top of her head. "Okay. Let's get you dressed and in bed."

Taking her hand, he led her out of the bathroom. He pulled out the Walmart shopping bags but she took them from him. She waved him away as she pulled on panties and a T-s.h.i.+rt and pajama pants. Then she climbed into the far bed, turned her back to the bathroom and pulled the covers up to her neck. He stood between the two beds, feeling slightly dumber and even more useless.

"I'm gonna go take a shower now, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a voice almost too small to hear.

He hesitated. "If you need anything, you'll come get me?"

She nodded once. With a sigh, he went to take his shower. Surprisingly, he had plenty of hot water.

When he'd dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth, he went back to the room and turned off the lamps. Then he stood there like a dumba.s.s again, wondering if he should put on pants. He normally slept naked, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. He looked over at her, huddled in the middle of the double bed. Was she even- Yeah, she was still awake. Her breathing was too shallow, too irregular for sleep.

"Sara?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She didn't sound okay. He pulled on some boxers and slid under the covers behind her, pulling her back until her head was tucked under his chin. She smelled fresh and girly.

After a few minutes, she relaxed against him. After a few more minutes, her hand crept up to cover his, lying against her ribs beneath her breast. Her b.u.t.t settled into his lower stomach.

I won't get a hard-on. I won't get a hard-on. She'll think I'm an animal, oh f.u.c.k, don't let me get a hard-on.

"I won't be like this tomorrow."

I won't get a- "Huh? What'd you say?"

She sniffed softly. "I said I won't be like this tomorrow." He almost felt her gritting her teeth as she said, "I'm not weak."

He couldn't help his snort of laughter. "No s.h.i.+t."

"You won't need to take care of me. I have the Tupperware. So- So I don't have to stay with you very long. I won't get in your way."

He squeezed her tight. "Shh. Stop it. Go to sleep. You won't be in my way."

Long after she dropped off, he lay in the dark, feeling her breathe in his arms, hoping what he'd said was true.

She was in the shower the next morning, eyes closed and face turned up, blessed hot water blasting away the shock and anxiety of the night before, when she felt a rush of cold air. She opened her eyes, turned and screamed.

"What?" yelled Bryan.

"Close the curtain!" she squealed.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a shower! Close the curtain!" She shouldn't be embarra.s.sed-he saw all of her last night-but this morning it felt different. And she was freezing.

"I woke up, you weren't there, I heard the shower, I thought you'd freaked out again!"

"Well, I didn't! I just needed a shower."

"How could you get dirty while you slept?"

"I like showers, okay? They- They make me feel better, help me clear my head." Plus, when she'd seen what she looked like this morning, after sleeping on wet hair...but she wasn't about to explain that. "Would you please close the shower curtain?"

Muttering something about crazy fae chicks, he left her in peace.

An hour later, they were on their way.

Houston, Texas s.h.i.+mmered like a mirage, a vision in the distance that never got any larger no matter how long they drove toward it. Twice she thought they'd hit the outskirts, only to see signs proclaiming the city limits of Kingwood and then Humble. The term urban sprawl took on a terrifyingly concrete meaning.

They roared past the Intercontinental Airport. As the planes flew overhead, she counted more in ten minutes than she'd seen in her life.

When at last they were in Houston, her heart lodged in her throat as she realized it was bigger, and louder, and denser, and taller and had a h.e.l.l of a lot more cars and people than any amount of time spent with television and the Internet could convey to a girl raised in a tiny town in the armpit of northeast Texas.

Bryan Keeton was insane to think she'd ever learn to drive in this place.

They drove under overpa.s.ses and over streets and beneath countless other freeways winding like one long, tangled ribbon through and around the city. Eventually she saw signs for Downtown. At last they were off the freeway and onto Rusk Street, where Bryan's condo was located, and she thought how weird it was that they could go from Grandma's front door to his with two left turns and a right.

She had a crick in her neck from twisting it left, right and up, taking in the spectacle around her. Condos, restaurants, shops and parking lots crowded together, a block of apartments followed by a block of car repair shops followed by two blocks of office buildings, then more apartments. She had to grab hold of Bryan's s.h.i.+rt when a wave of vertigo hit her as she gazed straight up at the buildings into the sky. She'd been staring at them since she'd first seen them from a distance, way back by the airport.

If the streets had this many cars on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon, what in G.o.d's name did rush hour look like?

The bike slowed as they approached a row of identical three-story condos. Made of red brick, each had a black wrought iron balcony on the top story.

The garage door in the middle unit rolled up, and they were home.

Her almond-shaped eyes were as round and large as silver dollars as he led her onto the balcony off his bedroom. She stood at the railing and gazed without saying a word.

Bryan suddenly realized how profound the culture shock was going to be. Reading about the big city wasn't the same thing as living in it. And reading about werewolves and s.h.i.+fters and fae, even looking at videos on the Web and eavesdropping in chatrooms, wasn't the same as living among them. He couldn't have brought her here and said, "Here you go, have a nice life." He was responsible for her.

The only people he'd ever been responsible for were other Marines.

She spun around suddenly, leaning back with her hands behind her on the railing. The wind was whipping her long red hair away from her face, molding the yellow T-s.h.i.+rt she'd bought at Walmart to her curves. He felt a little dizzy, and clammy, and his chest got tight, his breathing labored, the way it did right before he was about to go into hostile territory, and he had to let the fear wash over him before he expelled it.

What if he liked having her around so much he didn't want her to go?

She blinded him with an exuberant smile. "I love it!" she crowed.

And then she burst into tears.

Oh s.h.i.+t.

"She's in shock, moron," said Tyler Jean Turner.

His Alpha's personal a.s.sistant was the first female he'd thought of when Sara broke down. Once he'd gotten her settled on the couch with a gla.s.s of water and a box of tissues, he'd holed up in his bedroom and frantically dialed TJ. A crowd of people were shouting in the background. He thought he heard Milo Hamilton, the Voice of the Houston Astros, over a loudspeaker.

"TJ, are you at an Astro's game?"

"Yeah. Hang on. I need to go someplace where I can hear. Excuse me," she said to someone. "I need to take this. It's work."

"I'm sorry, TJ. I don't want to interrupt your afternoon, it's just that I-"

"Please, please interrupt me." There was considerably less background noise now. "I'm on a really bad blind date. Now. Listen to me. Your girl's been through h.e.l.l."

"She's not-"

"Shut up. For the time being, she is. From what Nick said she's pretty tough, but she's almost three hundred miles from home, in a strange city with the only werewolf she's ever met, her uncle tried to sell her into s.e.x slavery, and she's wearing clothes from Walmart. You got any Xanax?"

"No."

"Wine?"

"Yes."

"Good. Give her wine. Lots of it." She paused. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'm gonna pick her up tomorrow around ten. We'll have brunch, then go shopping. Having real clothes and her own makeup and stuff will make her feel better."

"That sounds good. She's got some money."

"She may not need it." Before he could ask what that meant, she continued, "So how well do you know this girl?"

He sighed. "Not that well. We've been out a few times. She's nothing like you'd expect a fae girl to be."

"Why do y'all expect every girl with more than a drop of fae blood to be a psychopath?"

"We don't. Well, maybe we do. Anyway, Sara's not like that at all. She doesn't deserve all the s.h.i.+t she's been through. She's an angel." Oh s.h.i.+t. He did not f.u.c.king say that...

"An angel?" TJ yelled, loudly enough for every human in Minute Maid Park to hear her. "Did you just say she's an angel?"

He closed his eyes and softly banged the phone against his forehead.

"h.e.l.lo? Bryan? You still there?"

"Yes, TJ," he said with a weary sigh. "I'm still here. There's nothing I can do to make you forget what I said, is there?"

"Oh h.e.l.l no. h.e.l.l no. Holy s.h.i.+t. An angel. But she's not your girl, right?"

He decided to ignore that. "Okay. That takes care of tomorrow. What am I supposed to do tonight?"

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? You're acting like this is the first girl you've ever been alone with! Don't be such a p.u.s.s.y. Go get some takeout, watch some movies. I can't believe-"

"All right! Jesus, would you shut the f.u.c.k up? Go back to your sad little blind date."

"Hey, you know, you could swing by here and pick me up. I could tell Adrian that Nick had an emergency. No, wait. That would be mean. He paid for field tickets." Bryan snickered at the plaintive whine in her voice. "s.h.i.+t. All right, I'll pick the angel up at your place tomorrow."

"Thank you, TJ. You're the best."

"Yes. Yes I am."

She had a slight hangover. Bryan had brought home Tex Mex and they'd split a couple bottles of wine and watched TV. It had been both weird and relaxing. Relaxing because of the wine and the food and the comfy bachelor couches, and weird because Bryan didn't really touch her all night. They sat on the same couch, but they hadn't cuddled or so much as held hands. She'd caught him staring at her. Several times she was certain he was about to reach for her, but he never did.

Did he feel trapped? He'd rescued her, and now he was stuck with her for a while. Lots of guys had a hard time sharing their s.p.a.ce with a girlfriend; Bryan had a virtual stranger to look after. The sooner she could find an apartment, the better. She needed to prove her independence, make him see he didn't have to be responsible for her. Maybe then they could start dating again. She wanted another chance with him.

He'd a.s.sumed, correctly, that she knew how to handle a gun, so he gave her his little Colt Mustang and a clip of silver bullets, instructing her to keep it in her purse for a while. He didn't think it likely that Kuba's gang would come after her, but they'd managed to turn more than one cop so far. Investigative leaks were a constant threat.

"You'll like TJ," Bryan was saying over coffee this morning. "She's a redhead, like you, but shorter and louder and b.i.t.c.hier."

"Okay." She gave him a big smile, hoping she seemed relaxed and upbeat as she sipped her coffee. Inside, she was an anxious mess. She longed to call Wendy, but Bryan said she couldn't do it, and she knew he was right. If Wayne were still around, she couldn't endanger anyone by telling them where she was.

She was wearing the T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans she'd bought in Lufkin. He was wearing shorts and tennis shoes and nothing else. It was a good look for him.

"So you're going running?"

"Yeah. I haven't had a real run since I went to Luxor and it's killing me."

"Why couldn't you jog in Luxor?"