Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf Read online

  “Is that right?” he murmured, lost in the moment. “As far as I know, I'm no fallen angel.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Then, as if her brief outburst was all the energy she could spare, she went limp in his arms again, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks.

  The lamp flickered. He watched it, willing the bulb to remain on. Burke had roughed it in much worse situations. The question was, had Kendall?

  Standing in the middle of the living room he glanced from the rustic log stairs to the master bedroom door. Take her upstairs, he told himself.

  Her breath fanned against his neck again. Practicality won out over his need for sanctuary. At least, that’s what he was telling himself as he headed for his bedroom. Why heat the whole house when he could heat one room?

  As he laid her on the big bed and tucked his jacket around her, he glanced at the ring finger on her left hand and found it bare. Did she not wear a wedding ring or was she not married?

  Her marital status doesn’t matter, Deveraux.

  Gin stood at the patio door and gave an impatient bark. Burke took three steps across the room and let the big dog outside. Gin paused on the covered terrace looking out at the thick blanket of snow. He glanced back at Burke and then darted off, a singular black dot in a blizzard of white.

  Burke pulled his cell phone from his pocket and checked the reception. Still nothing.

  A moan drew his attention back to the beauty sleeping in his bed. Her eyes fluttered behind closed lids. Everything about her called to him. Cried out for his protection and warmth. Begged him to wrap his arms around her and sooth away her fears.

  But he’d fallen for that before. He’d allowed himself to be tempted by a damsel.

  He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to another woman who would leave him and take his heart with her. Who would look at him like the freak of nature that he was. A man’s pride could only take so much. And his had been far too bruised for too many years.

  He could tend her. He would tend her. But that’s where it’d stop. He wouldn’t look at her pretty eyes or cute nose. He’d ignore her long silky hair. He wouldn’t notice her eyebrows, the creaminess of her cheeks or her thighs. He would remain impartial, like a doctor tending his patient.

  Clenching and unclenching his fists, he stepped to the edge of the bed. He brushed her hair aside and noticed a purple bruise forming below the smear of blood at her hairline. Was that from her accident or God forbid, something… someone else?

  He reached for the land line and punched number five. On the fourth ring Doctor Elijah Cooper gave a brisk hello. Burke made it a point to know a healer in every region he traveled to. Elijah was a big black wolf with a hearty laugh and a medical degree from Johns Hopkins among other places.

  “Dr. Cooper, Burke Deveraux here. I hate to call so late in the day but I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

  A human problem.

  After he explained about Kendall’s accident he asked for advice. Between the blizzard and the tree there was no way Elijah or anyone else was coming to Kendall’s aid.

  Which left him.

  “Keep her warm. Resting. Inspect her for injuries and clean them the best you can.

  Wake her up a couple of times and check for –“

  Burke headed to the kitchen for a notepad. So much for his quiet, uneventful vacation.

  He scribbled more notes and thanked the doctor, secretly praying that Kendall’s injuries were superficial.

  When he pressed number one on the speed dial, expecting to hear his brother’s voice, the line was dead. So much for touching base.

  He strode into the bathroom for a warm washcloth and the first aid kit he’d seen in the linen closet when he’d first moved in six years ago.

  With great care he dabbed at the blood on her forehead and checked her hairline for any more serious damage.

  As he pulled his jacket away from her, he tried to ignore the way the material molded to the generous swell of her breasts. The sweet scent of her blood swirled around him. He grit his teeth and averted his gaze for a moment, struggling to detach himself from the situation.

  Blood soaked the right shoulder and collar of her sweatshirt. He took a steadying breath and reached for the scissors in the kit. Check her for injuries, Cooper had said.

  Easier said than done.

  His finger and thumb hardly fit through the hole and for a moment he considered letting his claws grow just enough to slice the fabric away. But he couldn’t risk her waking up and seeing his mutant hands, half werewolf, half human.

  He’d made his ‘no humans’ rule for a very good reason. He didn’t date humans. Didn’t kiss humans. Didn’t sleep with humans and certainly didn’t let himself feel anything for them.

  He couldn’t afford to.

  Managing as best he could, he cut the gray material and then ripped it apart with his hands. The sound brought back memories of the occasional tryst and overwhelming passion that he’d succumbed to in the past.

  Not this time. This time the beautiful woman in his bed was a patient. A human patient. And nothing more.

  As gently as he could, he checked her for other injuries. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop noticing delicate little details about her. The shape of her collar bone, the dewy softness of her skin, the scalloped edge of her pale blue bra. How did doctors remain impartial? She wasn’t a bunch of body parts.

  She was a lovely flesh and blood woman. Right now the red smear on her shoulder gave him cause for concern. A cut of some sort?

  Slowly, he rolled her over to investigate the blood on her shoulder.

  Damn.

  Burke knew a gunshot wound when he saw one. He’d lost track of how many times he’d been shot, but he knew how much it hurt.

  Maybe there’d be something in the kit to help with the pain. He studied the contents: gauze, tweezers, little packets of something, and tape. As he retrieved the supplies he tried to remember how he’d seen doctors in the field treat the wounds. Clean, extract the bullet, bandage. Was it really that simple?

  After he let Gin back inside, he washed his hands and then began cleaning Kendall’s wound. What had she done to get herself shot? Surely, it had to be related to the man she’d said was after her.

  Burke checked her pulse. Finding a steady rhythm, he reached for the tweezers and the lights went out.

  “Knew that was gonna happen,” he mumbled and reached into the nightstand for a flashlight.

  Kendall felt safe and warm for the first time in months. With him to protect her she had nothing to fear. She was certain of it. As certain as she was that there was no way she could let herself be mated to that creep Carl Stienhurst. But she wouldn't think of that now.

  Now she wanted to concentrate on the stranger who calmed her soul. Though it was dark and she couldn't read his face, she knew he was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on her, as real as any caress. His quiet movements and gentle touch reassured her. The soft words he whispered made her crave his protection.

  “Don't leave me,” she begged, pride gone. When had her voice gotten so husky?

  “I won't,” he replied. He was close. “You're safe.” Somewhere behind her a dog barked loud and furiously, startling her from her serenity. “It's okay, he won't hurt you.”

  Something about his voice soothed her. The steady timber, the utter calm. His promise to stay with her loosened the strangle hold of fear.

  “I’ll be right back.” He moved away, she heard his footsteps on the floor and then the flick of a match. The freezing ground numbed her shoulders, her back.

  “So cold,” she whispered.

  She heard a shuffling sound and then a small pop. A tiny flame flickered to life, dancing as it lapped at the wood. Her savior stood over the fire. He held a long stick in his hands, watching, waiting. Then, as if satisfied with the fire’s progress, he glanced at her.

  Startled by his masculine beauty, she sucked in a painful breath. Firelight glinted off his dark eyes and shadows played across his arres
tingly handsome features highlighting a strong jaw and kissable lips. His hair was golden in the warm light and long, almost brushing his shoulders.

  Electricity gathered in the space, filling it with an odd, but not entirely scary sort of tension.

  He knelt by the fire and rearranged the logs. She watched his easy movements. Who was this man? So big. So quiet and self assured. Ready and able to battle the elements.

  There was another snap-pop and then a steady blaze lit the room. Kendall glanced up at the cavernous ceiling. A stone room with jagged walls surrounded them. A cave…it had to be.

  She tried to sit up but a shooting pain sliced through her back. Crying out, she sagged against the hard ground and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t try to move.” His voice came from the darkness and when she opened her eyes he was right there with her, stretched out along side of her, sharing his warmth. She concentrated on breathing in and out, ignoring the pain.

  It helped to stare at his lips. They gave her something to focus on. And for one blissful minute, the world fell away.

  His head dipped toward hers and she closed her eyes again, silently willing him to kiss her, to take the pain away. To wash away the fear and replace it with happiness and hope. Somehow she knew that this man…he was not like the others. He wasn’t like her father. He wasn’t like the man she was supposed to be mated to. He was different. Powerful.

  Cunning. Caring.

  * * *

  Burke returned to her side a minute later with a collection of candles. He checked his cell phone signal again before turning it off to conserve the battery.

  Hopefully tomorrow he could get word back to his brother that he’d arrived safely. No doubt with the various threats the Deveraux men had received in the past they’d be worried about Burke’s silence.

  Burke raked a hand down his face. He wasn’t a healer like André, but he knew the chances were good she was going to get an infection. As an immortal, he didn’t know a damn thing about them.

  Aiming the tweezers at the jagged tear in her flesh he held his breath and sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Kendall came awake instantly, her body tightening like a plank of wood. Her cry echoed through the cabin, the raw sounds of agony thundering in his ears.

  Burke put his hand in the middle of her blood covered back and pressed down gently.

  “You’re okay, chéri.”

  She bucked against him, gargled sounds pouring from her lips. She was stronger than she looked. “Shh…” he soothed. This was not how he’d planned to use his bed on vacation.

  “We gotta get this cleaned up.”

  Though she fell silent, her body shook. One deep breath after another expanded her ribcage beneath his palm. The way her muscles trembled he could tell she was fighting the pain as much as she was fighting him.

  “Who are you?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “Name’s Burke Deveraux.” He used his free hand to dab up a small stream of blood with a square of white cotton. “You got a bullet in yer shoulder, know that?” She huffed a sigh into the pillow, her words muffled. “I’m aware of it, yes. What are you going to do?”

  She turned her head so that she was looking in his direction.

  “I’m gonna get it out.” If possible. Her body tensed. “You need to relax. It’ll hurt less.” Or so he was told.

  “Are you a—ouch! Are you a doctor? Do you know what you’re doing?” She sounded close to tears. Or worse, hysterics. Burke wasn’t big on either.

  “Just hold still.”

  “Wait!”

  Burke bit back an impatient sigh. “What?”

  “Shouldn’t I…you know, bite down on something? Drink a shot of vodka first?”

  “I ain’t got no vodka. Bite the pillow.” Then he aimed the tips of the tweezers at the hunk of metal lodged beneath her skin.

  Her body shook with sobs as he inserted the tweezers.

  “Shh. Relax, petit.” She did neither.

  A few moments later her voice echoed off the polished wooden walls again. “Just…let me…die.”

  He blew out a sigh. The pain must be excruciating for her to wish for death. But she wasn’t like him. She, with her cute nose and delicate features, wasn’t immortal. She wasn’t immune to disease…and gunshots. Or infection. He angled the tweezers deeper and felt the clank of metal against metal.

  “Stop crying, Kendall. Makes my job helluva lot harder.” She put on a brave front.

  Almost... He gritted his teeth, hating that he was causing her so much distress and yet at the same time, knowing it needed doing.

  “Just…leave…it!” Her voice was low, breathy.

  He twisted the tweezers.

  “Who shot you anyway?” Her body went lax beneath his palm.

  She didn’t answer. He leaned down to look her in the eye but she’d passed out. Quickly he checked the pulse at her neck and found the same steady rhythm. Touching her, feeling the healthy thump-thump-thump against his skin did crazy things to his mind and body. Things that he wouldn’t…couldn’t examine now.

  He gave the tweezers a tug and a hunk of metal emerged from her shoulder, bloody and disfigured. The bullet looked like it’d hit several things before landing in her shoulder. A lucky shot? She was lucky it hadn’t been a few inches higher. Why had she been speeding up a mountain rather than toward a hospital?

  He set the tweezers and bullet aside and set about cleaning and bandaging her wound.

  He should probably stitch up the gash but he didn’t have the supplies for that. Hopefully she’d be all right until he could get her to a doctor. It was gonna leave one helluva scar though.

  He pushed away his curiosity about her as he applied the last strip of tape to the bright white gauze. There was nothing more that he could do for her now. He’d wake her in a few hours and offer her pain killer.

  As he washed his hands he tried to ignore the smell of blood. It had been a long time since he’d been on a hunt. Since he’d chased a creature down.

  His more civilized side had honed over the years, taking him further and further from his native instincts. The need to charge, race across the land and attack. To sink his teeth into a warm body and go for the kill.

  It was much easier to stop by a butcher for a big, meaty steak.

  Much tastier too.

  But that luxury didn’t change who and what he was. He stared out the bathroom window at the frozen world beyond. In the distance he could just make out the line of Fur trees shivering in the wind. His cabin was surrounded by two hundred acres of forest. Here it was safe to run and romp as long as his paws would carry him.

  Getting away from the city, away from work was a treat these days. On the other hand, his years of dedication brought many extravagances, like electricity during one of the worst blizzards in a century, not to mention the best coffee money could buy.

  After checking on the woman in his bed he headed for the shed outside. That generator purchase would come in handy, at least until the gasoline ran out. But at four hours a day, he figured he could run the refrigerator and coffee maker for a few weeks if he needed to.

  Once he’d programmed the generator to turn on at breakfast, lunch, dinner and just before bed, he headed inside. A steaming mug of El Injerto sounded damn good right about now.

  Chapter Three

  Florida, midnight

  Carl Steinhurst marched past the ornate clock on the mantle as it struck nine.

  Impatient, he took his place behind the massive wooden desk, steepling his fingers as he waited for his daily update on the Kendall situation. As soon as this call was complete he could get back to the two beautiful whores adorning the large silk sofa on the opposite wall of his office.

  His hand hovered over the receiver as he waited. And waited. His gaze flicked to the clock again. One minute past.

  He sucked in an annoyed breath as he glared back at the phone. The instant it rang, he snatched it up.

  Luckily, he’d trained the smal
l talk out of his help. He had no time or need for such things. Down to business. Always business.

  “She got away again,” the voice said without preamble.

  Carl’s grip tightened on the cordless phone as his fangs lengthened. “She what?”

  “She got away from us boss. She’s smarter than she looks—“ He leaned forward, elbows digging into the polished wood. “That’s my betrothed you’re talking about weasel. Watch your mouth.” One of these days he was going to have to see about getting better help. Someone smarter and more capable. These goons worked for peanuts and until he could stake his claim on the Carver lands he couldn’t afford anyone better.

  “Use her cell phone to track her.”

  “It’s off, boss.”

  Sometimes he really did think he was talking to children. “As soon as she turns it back on, triangulate her position,” he said, annunciating every word.

  He ran his tongue over his fangs as he watched the women on his sofa fondle and caress each other. The lingerie he’d picked out did wonders for their figures. Rhinestones sparkled in the moonlight, like beacons in the darkened room.

  “Right. Um. And there’s more.”

  “More? How could there be more?” Fury boiled inside him. How inept could those man-sized-rodents be? He should have hired a bounty hunter with questionable morals to bring her back to him, but no, he’d taken their word for it. “We can find her,” they’d said.

  Sniveling little animals.

  Not only was Kendall making him look like a fool, now his men were too. He closed his eyes and fought for control. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper at this point in the game.

  “Drek managed to get off a shot.”

  Carl waited, his brows pinched downward, an uneasy feeling coming over him. He’d told them to take her alive. She was no good to him if she was dead. God help him, he would kill them all. Worthless, scum-sucking maggots.