Savage Instinct (4 page)

The property looked abandoned.  At least for the night.

He didn’t regret sniffing out this place until now. 
Hunting their prey felt exhilarating.

When they cleared the outside of the property and felt
certain no one lurked around to attack them, they headed up to the cabin.

They walked in a line around the exterior of the house,
methodical as they sniffed the ground, looking for traces of their prey.

Lee cocked his head, listening for any disturbance within
the dwelling.

No sounds reached his ears save those of their own hassling
and night insects chirruping in the background.

A breeze tickled the fur lining his back, making Lee’s
hackles raise with anxiety.

He knew Kinsey was no fool.  He wouldn’t go to a hospital
to extract the blade Lee had broken off in his chest.  If it didn’t kill him,
he’d find some way to pull it out himself.

They hadn’t stuck around to see what happened after the car
came.

Maybe they should have.  They wouldn’t be in the dark now
if he’d had just a little more forethought.

Lee wrinkled his muzzle, feeling stupid.  He hated feeling
stupid.

Though they didn’t possess the ability to mind speak with
one another as he’d heard some clans could, his pack knew him well enough that
they could sense his disturbance, and back away from his anger.

With their tails tucked close to the ground and their
skittering movements, Lee could see his mood giving them anxiety.

Losing patience with the game and feeling like he’d done
nothing but make the wrong move, Lee led them around the back of the house to
the back door.  The assault on the pitiful defenses lasted only as long as it
took them to bust through the locked door and smash through the windows.

Once inside, the smell of their enemy launched them into a
frenzy.  Still as wolves, they tore through the house.  In the living room,
they shredded the couch’s cushions until bits of polyester and foam fluttered
in the air like snow.  Joey took the cushions in his muzzle and tore at them
with his paws, then whipped the remnants in the air like a rabid dog.

Lee snarled and knocked over the tables and lamps,
gratified to hear the tinkle of busting light bulbs.  In another room, he
caught the smell of piss as someone marked their spot—probably Kinsey’s bed.

His lips curled over his fangs in a mouthy grin.

Shifting into human form for ease, Lee ripped frames off
the walls and threw them onto the floor, smashing the pictures with his bare
feet.  He cut his foot but ignored the pain, tracking blood down the hall as he
healed the minor injury.

The others, followed suit to their Alpha, resuming human
form as they continued their frenzied ransacking of the house.

Not a single cushion or pillow remained in one piece. 
Every drawer was strewn around, the fronts broken and the handles ripped off as
their contents were upended in the floor.  Aiden’s clothing joined the
brickabrack on the floor, most of it shredded by hands and teeth.

Someone had tipped the refrigerator over and busted glass
bottled beer all over the linoleum rather than drinking them.  They were a
frenzied pack, and at times, did things that had no rhyme or reason.

He frowned.

Sometimes, they were real fucking idiots.

“Who the hell spilled all the beer?” Lee demanded when his
saw the puddles of amber liquid.

No one said a word.  Cowards.

Lee backhanded the closest member to him, Thomas.  Thomas
stumbled in the door frame and rubbed his jaw, spitting out blood as he moved
out of range should Lee choose to take another swipe at him.

Their rage fed by the destruction of Aiden’s home, his
pack’s sudden cease of movement signaled that most of them had expended their
last reserves of energy.  They looked spent and exhausted.

“Well, I reckon we better eat.  Y’all see what’s left in
the fridge.  He could come back at any time, and I want us to be ready for him
when he gets here.”

“How long will that be?” Thomas asked, holding his jaw as
if it still hurt.

Lee peered at him through one squinty eye.  “Don’t matter
unless his pack comes back.  We got time.  This fight ain’t over.  Not by a
long shot.”

Chapter
Four

The car jolted to a halt in front of a cozy, white house
with blue shutters on the corner of the street.

Aiden slammed forward, catching himself with one hand on
the dash instead of with his face.  He looked at Nydia like she was crazy.

“Sorry!” Nydia said, wincing at his grimace of pain.

“It’s okay.  Just get me out of here before you do anymore
damage,” Aiden said tiredly, leaning back into the seat as if pained.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

Nerves jangling like she’d drunk too much coffee, Nydia
rushed out of her car and into her house.  The tiled foyer opened into a small
living room with a long couch and two chairs.  The first thing she did was grab
a new shirt from her bedroom so she didn’t look like a maniac outside. 
Clothed, she went back into the living room and snagged the blanket she always
kept tucked into one of the recliners and dashed back outside to get Aiden.

Even with the late hour and lack of traffic, she still had
to worry about nosy neighbors poking their heads out and catching sight of her
dragging a naked man into her house.  Plus, he still had blood streaming down
his chest and mud all over his body.

They might think she’d taken pity on a homeless man, but it
was better not to give them anything to wag their tongues about.

She preferred keeping her business her own.

Running around to the passenger side, she opened the door
and draped the blanket over his naked body, striving to keep her eyes averted
from the exquisite muscles that carved a rippled swath down his belly.  Over
that muscled expanse, a dark line of hair arrowed from his chest straight down
to the biggest set of junk she’d ever clapped eyes on.

Poor Richard only thought he was impressive.

Ha!

Her hands trembled, fingers shaking as she tucked it around
his lap while he unbuckled the seatbelt.

Oh god, he had those hip lines forming a v pointing to
his….  She’d only seen that on high dollar male models of her dreams.

Nydia felt heat flood her cheeks and chest and glanced up
at his face to see if he’d noticed her inspection.  He caught her gaze with his
heavy fringed, green eyes but spared her from saying anything embarrassing—
like
stop looking at my junk, horn dog
.

Nydia swallowed and gave him her hand.  He pulled himself
out of the car, gritting his teeth.

“We’ll have to do something about your wound.  I can’t have
you bleeding to death in my house.  I don’t want to go to jail.”

He nodded and made his way inside with her help.  She let
him to the guest bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid while she raided
the medicine cabinet for gauze, tape, and alcohol.  As she opened the medicine
cabinet, her hands shaking, the twelve inch long dildo that her coworker,
Sadie, had given her for her birthday fell out and clattered in the sink.

“What’s that?” he said, his eyes practically boggling out
of his skull.

If she could have turned ten shades of red, she would
have.  As it was, heat suffused her face and neck—and not in a good way.  “It’s
nothing,” she said, trying to tuck it back into the cabinet before he could get
a good look.  She had to remember to get it out the next chance she got before
he could see it.

And she’d kick Sadie’s but the next time she saw her!

Turning with the bottle, she poured alcohol on the wound to
clean the area to see what she was working with.

Aiden roared and knocked the bottle away before she could
dowse him again.  “I’d rather die!”

Nydia popped a hip and frowned at him, holding the bottle
close again.  Her face tightened in determination.  “You want to die of
sepsis?”

He narrowed his eyes.  “I thought you said you weren’t a
doctor.”

“I’m not.  But that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot that doesn’t
know about infections.  I’ve seen enough emergency ER on TV to know what can go
wrong when you aren’t treated properly.”

Aiden grimaced, bracing himself for more torture.  “Oh
god,” he said.  “I’m stuck with some lady who thinks she’s a doctor after
watching TV.”

“Hmph.  I did not say that.  Stop acting like a baby.  I
swear, do all men do this?  And the name is Nydia.  Nydia Willaims,” she said,
examining the thin metal sticking out of his chest.

“Thanks for letting me know who’s going to send me to my
grave.”

“This could severe arteries in your heart if we pull it
out.  You really need a doctor.”

His tan face turned pale when she touched a finger to it. 
“Just get me some pliers,” he said, his tone gruff.

Nydia left him in the bathroom to check her kitchen junk
drawer for the little pink toolbox she kept inside.  Opening the pink cover,
she found a small pair of pliers.

“Thank the lord,” she said, rushing back to where he
waited.  When she held up the pliers, he gave her a look.

“Pink.  Really?”

“You got something better hidden in your pockets?”

“I don’t have any pockets.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips.  “Well,
there you go.”

He shook his head.  “You’re mouthy.”

“I’ve been called worse.  Now, are going to do something
about this or not?”

Aiden took the pliers, but he couldn’t get the right angle
on it to pull the debris straight out.  He dropped his hand to his lap, looking
weary as his shoulders slumped.  “You’re going to have to do this.”

Immediately, every ounce of bravado she possessed deserted
her.  She gave a hard, audible swallow and glanced uneasily from his face to
the weeping wound.  “I don’t know…”

“Just take the damn pliers and get it over with.  You won’t
kill me, I promise.  Better in than out.”  He leaned his head back as if
bracing for the worst.

Feeling sick to her stomach, hands shaking, she took the
pliers from him and applied them to the thin edge of metal poking out from his
flesh.  Grasping it, she grit her teeth with determination and gave a tug.

“Jesus!” he yelled, turning white.  His lips looked almost
purple.

“You’re making me a nervous wreck!” she hollered back at
him.

“Yell at the wounded man you ran over with your car why
don’t you?”

“Guilt much?” she said.

He roared again when she inched out the metal piercing him.

“It’s like a bandaid.  Just pull it out and be done,” he
gritted out in a hoarse voice, panting now as if he’d been running a race.

“This damn sure is nothing like a bandaid,” she muttered,
feeling a little faint as spots began dotting the edges of her vision. 
Finally, she screwed up her courage and yanked.

The metal pulled free with a spurt of blood that flew
across the room and spattered her pristine white tiled floor and the backsplash
lining the bottom half of the bathroom.  The red looked stark and harsh against
all that white.

Looking at the pliers, she saw two inches of what looked
like a serrated knife protruding from its pinchers.  “Who the hell stabbed you
and why?”

“Does it matter when I’m bleeding to death,” he said
quietly.

She dropped it in the trash and grabbed the bottle, dousing
him in alcohol to clear the blood away.  Ignoring his groans of pain, she
folded a pad of gauze over the wound and taped it to his chest.

“X marks the spot.  Maybe you’ll live,” she said, looking
at him doubtfully.

He squinted down at the bandaging.  “I’ll try not to die on
you.  Can I wash myself off?  Do you have any clothes I can use?”

“Yeah.  Just don’t get your bandage wet.  I’ll see if I can
find you something to wear.  There are towels and washcloths in the cupboard
under the sink.  Soap in the medicine cabinet and shampoo.  I’ve never actually
used this bathroom, but it’s stocked for guests.”

He nodded and she left him alone to clean up, wondering
what kind of crazy she was to allow him into her house.  Closing the door, she
leaned against it a moment, listening to the sounds of water cutting on and
hitting the shower stall, the tinkle of hooks as he pulled the curtain back and
got in.

Soap scented steam seeped from under the door.

Rather than dwell on the wisdom of her decision to bring
home a wounded stranger, Nydia set about cleaning spots of blood and mud on the
carpet that he managed to track in.  When she finished with that task, she went
to her bedroom to see if Richard managed to leave any of his clothes at her
house.

She was normally a stickler for making sure anyone that
came to her home with belongings also left with them.  She hated going through
her house and discovering that someone left a pan when they came to eat, or a
hat.  She was always surprised at the things people tended to forget and never
attempt to get back.

She’d suspected Richard of trying to move in on her without
an invitation, and maybe that’s why he’d talked to his family negatively about
her.  He’d managed to bring a few things like deodorant and a toothbrush, and
sleeping pants for when he talked himself into sleeping over.

Maybe she was abnormal, but she didn’t enjoy having a man
hogging her bed.  And Richard snored, keeping her up at night, which was
another reason she didn’t like for him to sleep at her house.

She valued her rest.  Sleeping was one of her few
enjoyments besides swimming and cooking.

Maybe she needed to work on being less rigid and more flexible.

She wasn’t big on allowing anyone into her space.  If it
wasn’t for the fact that she’d hit Aiden with her car, he wouldn’t be in here
either.  As it was, as soon as he was able to get the heck out of her domain,
she would kick him to the curb and go back to a normal life without the trouble
of any man in it.

Maybe that said something about how she felt about
Richard?  She didn’t even miss the jerk.

Anyone that could make her that angry didn’t deserve her
time or grief.

Good riddance.

Finding the black and red striped pajama pants she’d
remembered Richard leaving in her closet, she opened the door to the bathroom
and sat them on the sink countertop.  In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of
tanned, glistening skin.

She paused, riveted to the crack between shower wall and
curtain.  Her pulse quickened, taking off at a gallop.

Nydia gulped and ducked back outside before she could get
herself in trouble.

The magnetism to a stranger was disturbing, to say the
least.

***

Free from Nydia’s curious eyes, Aiden peeled the bandage
back on his chest.  The wound had already healed in the short time she’d been
gone, but the silver had left a ragged, pink scar that would probably always be
there.

It didn’t take a lot of imagination to realize that one:
Riker’s gang had been watching Aiden’s; and two: they probably knew where his
place was by now and would be waiting on his return.

He could call his pack via cell phone and get them back
sooner, but most shifters turned their phones off at festival so they could
fully enjoy what it had to offer.