CoyoteWhispers Read online

  The blood and dirt were gone but he hadn’t used the disinfectant yet. He wanted to keep his promise but he also needed to know she was okay and he didn’t think he possessed enough skill to trust his own judgment. Blowing out a breath, he rummaged through the first-aid kit, hoping to find something that would pull the two sides of her lip together and hold them there. His fingers landed on a box of steri-strips and he ripped it open to examine the small bandages.

  They could work. Doc would need to keep her mouth still and he’d have to watch the wound for infection, but if he used a couple of the strips to pull the sections of lip together it would hold and allow her body to heal. Reading the instructions one more time, Steve laid everything out within easy reach. Once he had the area clean and dry, he pushed the open sides of the cut together and stuck a strip on. Three more and he’d done the best job he could. He sat back to admire his handiwork and laughed ruefully. Not the best-looking bandage he’d ever seen but it would do for now.

  Steve gathered up the discarded wrappers and went to throw them into the waste bin next to the bed but remembered just in time he’d used it to catch her vomit. He put them in a pile beside him and pulled the first-aid kit back together to return it to the bathroom where he tossed the garbage in the bin. Back in his room, he cleared away Doc’s bloody clothes, the waste basket and the bowl of now-cold water. Steve made sure she was resting before he went to get his pants off the back deck. Detouring past the front door, he locked it. No way would he allow anyone the chance to get near Doc again. His pants and beer retrieved, he locked the sliding door to the deck and went to the kitchen.

  He dumped the untouched warm beer down the sink before he threw the bottle in the bin. Forgoing another one, he grabbed a soda instead. He’d need his wits about him from now on. Not that one beer would get him drunk, but anything that slowed his reflexes was off his agenda until he found the bastard responsible for Doc’s attack. Throwing his pants in the laundry as he walked by, Steve made his way back to the bedroom. Happy to see Doc resting easy, he slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower.

  With a twist of a tap, Steve turned on the water. He swallowed the last of the soda and dropped the can in the bin before stepping into the glass enclosure. Water streamed down his body and he tilted his face into the spray to let the hot stream wash the dirt away. A shudder traveled through him. The thought of Doc’s spilled blood made his own boil with anger and the urge to hunt and destroy the person who’d hurt her. His jaw clenched and he ground his molars hard. They’d pay for touching her, but he needed to focus on Doc before he could take revenge.

  Steve soaped himself and rinsed. For the second time tonight, he shut the shower off and stepped out. Brisk movements dragged the towel over his skin, soaking up the moisture and abrading nerve endings already on edge. He tucked the towel over the rail and ran his fingers through his wet hair. Emotions bombarded him. He wanted to hold Doc close and keep her safe but he also wanted to go out and hunt down her attacker.

  Frustration tore at him, but he knew the only thing he’d be doing tonight would be watching over Doc. Steve gave himself a shake to loosen his tense muscles before he left the bathroom and returned to Gordie. The scent of blood still tainted the air and his jaw clenched with renewed anger. Pausing, he made a conscious effort to relax. It wouldn’t do her any good to feel his rage and for now it had to be all about Doc.

  Making his way to the chest of drawers, he pulled a pair of boxers out and stepped into them. Three strides had him beside the bed. Doc was on top of the bedcovers but he didn’t want to disturb her so he pulled a blanket from the back of his cupboard and draped it over her. Walking to the other side of the bed he lifted the edge of the cover and crawled in next to her.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms but he didn’t think he could without hurting her and the last thing he wanted was to add to her pain. Steve reached over to the bedside lamp and switched it off. Moonlight streamed through the window and skylight, bathing the room in a soft glow. Doc lay on her side, facing him, her body curled up as though protecting herself from further harm. His heart ached at how vulnerable she appeared.

  Resistance was futile. The woman he wanted to the depth of his soul lay hurting alongside him and he had to touch her. With the tip of one finger he brushed the hair from her eyes. She moved into his caress and he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth. In her most unguarded moment, she knew him, reached for him. Her actions contradicting every protest she’d made about their attraction.

  For three years he’d respected her need to push him away. He knew her denial of their attraction stemmed from the trauma of losing her husband and unborn child, but enough was enough. From now on she wouldn’t keep him at arm’s length. He’d make sure of it. It was time for her to accept him as her mate. She could object all she wanted, but Steve wasn’t about to let things continue the way they had been. Not after tonight.

  He understood her need to protect herself but in doing so she was denying both of them happiness. The fear of being mated had stopped him from pursuing her when they were teenagers, that and her being human. It had terrified him back then and by the time he’d gotten his head around it Anthony had stolen her out from under his nose. Steve didn’t plan on letting that happen again and he’d be damned if he would let her fight him any longer.

  It was time to claim what was his.

  * * * * *

  Gordie’s first registered thought was pain. Everything hurt. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, every cell screamed in agony—even her eyelashes as they weighed down her lids. She tried not to move, tried to keep her breathing shallow to stop the vise from crushing her chest. The second thing Gordie registered was the warm body she’d curled herself around. A steady heartbeat drummed beneath the hot flesh pressed to her face. Confusion filled her. Where was she? And who was in her bed?

  “Easy, Doc. It’s just me.” The muscles beneath her cheek vibrated as Steve’s voice rumbled through his chest and filled her ears.

  The urge to pull away took hold but the slightest movement brought pain. Gordie opened her eyes, one barely more than a crack, and stared at the hard male chest before her. Bits and pieces of the night before started to flit through her mind and she groaned. The walk she’d taken after dinner, the need to be near Steve but not near him.

  The attack.

  Steve’s arms loosened, giving her the freedom to move away if she wanted. But for the first time in three years Gordie wanted to be close to him. She needed him to hold her, to remind her she was alive—safe.

  “Do you feel up to talking about what happened?”

  Not wanting the ugliness of the night before intruding on the moment, she shook her head, and pain ricocheted around her skull, making her groan.

  He didn’t comment, just tightened his arms again and pulled her a little closer to his side. Warmth and rightness invaded her. The truth of what she’d been denying since her return to Whispering Springs and the mountains that had been her home from the age of six, slammed into her like never before. It terrified her like never before too, but she couldn’t pull away from him. Not after last night. She felt vulnerable—scared, and Steve’s steady presence reassured her.

  They lay quietly in the predawn light. For long moments Gordie just enjoyed the safety and comfort Steve offered. She knew she’d have to go soon enough, knew she needed to check her wounds and return home. But she didn’t want to leave his warm embrace. Wanted to stay wrapped in his arms and let him hold her and make everything disappear. But she couldn’t expect Steve to take care of her problems for her.

  Before last night Gordie hadn’t been too concerned by the strange little things that had occurred over the last month. Random things moved at both her house and the clinic. Doors unlocked when she would swear she’d locked them. The creepy, itchy-neck feeling of being watched all the time. None of it had worried her because she’d been so busy she could have forgotten she’d moved that picture or those supplies
—or even neglected to lock up after herself.

  She couldn’t ignore them anymore.

  But she dare not tell anyone either. She had no real evidence and nothing but the gut-gnawing instinct that Marcus was behind what had been happening. The only proof anything was actually going on was last night’s attack and she hadn’t gotten a clear look at her assailant. Gordie wasn’t even sure she’d identified his scent correctly. Even after all the years as a coyote shifter she still couldn’t use her senses well. Maybe if she hadn’t tried to ignore her wild side she might have had better luck.

  Gordie had spent the years since Anthony’s death denying her coyote existed whenever possible. She shifted when the pull became too much but other than that, her animal lay slumbering. Unless Steve was around—which was the reason she kept her distance from him as much as possible. When he was near, her coyote sat up and took notice, wanted to break free and run wild to be with the animal she recognized as her mate. In the last few months staying away from him had become more difficult.

  Her need to be close to him had driven her to take walks in the forest below his new home. Before he’d moved into his mountain house they’d lived on the same street and it wasn’t until he’d started staying up on the mountain overnight that her true needs had shown themselves. Gordie had managed to delude herself for so long. Believed she had her feelings under control. The wild rush of urges and desires had never been a part of her life before. She’d never felt this drawn to Anthony.

  Even after he’d turned her, Anthony didn’t make her pulse race or her coyote pull to be free. The guilt she’d lived with for years still haunted her. Gordie had hurt Anthony by accepting his love when she hadn’t loved him in return. Not the way she should have—the way he deserved. He’d been her friend and she’d been so desperate to become like everyone else in Whispering Springs she’d gladly taken all he offered. They’d both paid dearly for her mistake. She’d spent the years since his death trying to make up for her decision but the guilt remained.

  She closed her eyes tight. Tried to stop her brain from taking her into that dark place she’d locked away the day she left Whispering Springs to attend college. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. Gordie had to think about what to do in the present. Because if she was right in her assumption of who had started a campaign of terror against her, she was in a whole heap of trouble and so was the rest of the pack.

  Doc was overthinking again. The woman had a brain that wouldn’t quit. While that was good when she was in her doctor role, Steve wished she’d let it rest and just feel for once. Then she might see how right it was for them to be together. He’d let her push him away, let her rationalize until they were both blue in the face but he wouldn’t give her that luxury anymore. From now on they were a couple. He wouldn’t push her to mate but in every other area she’d have to accept him by her side.

  First he needed to check her wounds and decide whether she should see someone about her lip. He’d dozed on and off since he’d crawled into bed, so he knew Doc had spent a restless night beside him. After he took care of her injuries he’d make them both something to eat, the healing process would require extra nourishment and he planned to make sure she got it. Then they’d talk and she could answer some questions, like what she was doing this far out of town in the forest after dark. Alone.

  “I need to have a look at your injuries. I’m not sure I did a good job with your lip but I’m not the doctor here.” Steve eased her face up with two fingers under her chin.

  The gash looked to be knitting together already and he gently cradled her cheek in his palm. The bruising along her jaw and around her eyes made his stomach churn and his coyote wanted to rip apart the person responsible for the damage. It took effort and a bit more enamel ground from his back teeth but he managed to not squeeze her face in his frustration and anger. Steve let his fingertips trail the dark bruise along Doc’s chin, the petite angle of her face marred by the ugly mark.

  “Damn, Doc. You really got yourself done over. Wanna tell me what happened?”

  She stiffened in his arms and fear flashed in her gaze before she looked away. Either she’d been more than physically hurt in the attack or she was attempting to shut him out again.

  “Don’t try to shut me out. I’m finished with you pushing me away. Dancing around what we are, ends now, Doc.” He placed a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll wait on the mating, I won’t push you on being physically intimate, but I will push you on everything else. From now on we’re together whether we have sex or not.”

  He held her close, rubbed his hand up and down her back until she relaxed against him once more. “You can’t fight what we are forever, Doc. I understand your fear and I’ll be patient as best I can but you have to know our mating is inevitable. Neither of us is strong enough to fight these feelings forever.”

  Warm air whispered over his chest, ruffling his hair and bathing his nipple in a wave of moist heat. Her breasts, concealed by his shirt, pressed into his side as she sucked in a deep breath, their taut peaks poking into his ribcage. The sensations of holding Doc so close bombarded him and his body reacted in typical guy fashion. His pulse raced and blood pumped into his cock. Steve ignored his coyote’s call to claim his mate and held her. She remained quiet for so long Steve thought she would continue to deny their connection but she surprised him.

  “I know I can’t fight it anymore. I realized that when you moved up here but I’m not ready to take the next step.” Her words were barely a murmur but he heard every one as if it were a physical blow to his heart.

  “We’ll worry about that later. Right now, let’s get you all fixed up.” Steve gently eased Doc away and turned her onto her back. He leaned up on his elbow and studied her face. “You know, you don’t look as bad as I thought you would this morning.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up and she winced. “Shoot, that hurt.”

  “Yeah, your lip is split down the middle. Try not to stretch your mouth.”

  “Talking isn’t that bad because I can do it without moving my lips too much but smiling is obviously out of the question.” She brought her hand up and ran her fingertips over his make-do bandage job.

  Steve frowned. “It’s not the most professional job, but working with what I have on hand and you extracting that promise you got the best I could offer.”

  “It feels okay but I should check it myself.” Doc tried to sit up but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Stay there. I’ll grab the first-aid kit and a mirror.” He rolled off the bed and walked around to her side. “Here, let me help you sit.”

  Steve pulled the pillows from his side of the bed and lifting her, stacked them behind her. Doc leaned back and closed her eyes. “Do you have any pain pills?”

  “Yeah. I’ll bring everything I’ve got.” He strode from the room and into his bathroom. It didn’t take long to pull out his supplies, he wasn’t exactly overflowing with medical paraphernalia. Steve brought back his haul and dropped it on the bed beside Doc. He walked to his dresser and pulled his mother’s hand mirror from the top drawer and headed back to Doc to find her going through his kit.

  “This is all you have?”

  It was a simple question but there was so much censure in those five words. Sheepishly he said, “Sorry, I’m not as familiar with all this stuff as you are.”

  Doc looked up, their gazes colliding. “Remind me to make you up a kit, these store-bought jobs are okay but I can give you a better one from the clinic.” She barely moved her lips when she spoke but her words were clear.

  Steve watched as Doc pulled out bandages, scissors and tape. She held the box of steri-strips before discarding them and searching the small plastic tub for something else. A breath huffed through her nose as she stopped combing the contents and went back to the packet of strips.

  “You don’t have sutures?”

  He shook his head. “No. Only what came in the kit.”

  She sighed and picked
up his mother’s mirror. Her eyes widened when she saw her beaten-up face for the first time. The fingers she brought up to brush over the bandage on her lip trembled and her brown eyes filled with moisture. “Damn.”

  “Yeah, it’s not pretty but it’s already started to heal.”

  Doc brushed her fingertips along the bruise on her jaw. “This was the first punch,” she murmured.

  Steve’s gut knotted and his coyote snarled. He managed to keep from voicing his rage. “What were you doing out in the woods?”

  Her gaze met his, the dark depths held so much churning emotion the knot in his stomach tightened. “I wanted to be near you.”

  “You were in the forest to be near me?” He didn’t understand how that was near him at all. Why hadn’t she just knocked on his door?

  “Ever since you moved up here I’ve been walking in the woods to be close. I needed to feel you.”

  “Jesus, Doc, you’re killing me here.” He reached out, ran his fingers down her cheek. “No more. You want to feel me, you come inside.”

  She turned away and Steve put gentle pressure on her chin to make her look at him. “Promise me, Gordie. I don’t want you going anywhere alone again.”

  His heart stalled while he waited for her answer. When she nodded he released the breath he held and leaned forward. As lightly as he could, Steve pressed his lips to hers. He stilled, savored the heat and feel of her mouth against his. The urge for more rolled over him and he groaned. Before he could take what he so desperately wanted he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers.

  “Okay.” He breathed deep. “Let’s get you fixed up to your standards.”

  Doc didn’t speak while he helped her remove the bandage from her mouth. The wound, like the rest of her injuries, had begun to heal. He held the strips ready for her to apply and by the time she’d finished he was more ashamed of the crappy job he’d done the night before.