Lycan Vengeance

Chapter Eleven

She had to act fast, or he’d die. Taking him to the hospital was out of the question. For one, she didn’t think he’d make it to the hospital, and secondly, if he did and they got a sample of his blood, all hell would break loose. Besides, he’d never want her to risk taking him to the hospital even if she thought they could save him. As hard as he’d fought to help the survival of his race, letting his blood fall into the wrong hands would put all the lycans in jeopardy. He’d never forgive her if she allowed such a thing to happen. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed as many towels as she could, went back to Knox, knelt by him, and pushed one hard against his neck.

His skin was pale with a tinge of gray to it, no hint of its usual golden hue evident. Lycans healed fast, but he was in danger of bleeding out if he didn’t change. She had to staunch the blood flow until he regained consciousness and could shift. She sat on the floor, rested her back against the end of the bed, and struggled to pull his head onto her lap. He was a big man, and his dead weight was hard to maneuver. She held the towel tightly to his neck and brushed her fingers through his hair.

She had a medical aid box in her truck with a suture kit in it, but she didn’t dare leave him quite yet to get it. She had to get the flow of blood slowed before leaving him for any amount of time. Once she thought it was somewhat under control, she’d get the kit, stitch him up, and hope her efforts weren’t too little too late.

She bent and kissed him on the forehead and whispered, “Please, Knox. Don’t go. I need you.”

She traced her fingers over the scars on his face. He was strong. He’d make it. But an hour later, when he was still lying unconscious across her lap, and his breaths were shallow, with too much time in between each one, she was afraid he was dying. Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. There had to be a way to save him. If she could make him hear her somehow, she was sure she could hold him to her until he awoke.

If she could get through to him somehow, convince him to fight and stay with her, she’d grab on to him and refuse to let him die. She sobbed as she changed the towel out for a fresh one. The bleeding had nearly stopped, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or if it meant he didn’t have enough blood left to bleed. It was the first time the blood hadn’t started flowing the minute she’d stopped the pressure, and she knew now would be the best time to get the sutures from the truck.

She didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second, but she had to get his wound closed up to keep the bleeding from starting again. She eased his head down to the floor, got up, and sprinted to the truck. She nearly tripped several times, as her legs had fallen asleep from sitting for so long, but she’d gotten the kit and was back with Knox in no time, his head propped across her lap once again. She had never stitched a wound, but she was decent at sewing and hoped that skill would help her with this matter.

She ripped the sterile plastic apart and threaded the black suture line through the needle. After removing the towel from Knox’s throat, she heaved a sigh when she saw the wound was starting to crust over as if it was trying to heal. She opened some sterile wipes from their sealed packages and cleaned the injury. It was deep, and she gasped as the seriousness of the wound was exposed. Her stomach churned, but she fought down the sick feeling, placed the needle against his neck, and took a deep breath. You can do this. You have to do this if you want to save him. She pierced the skin and put all thoughts from her mind except the task at hand.

Ten minutes later, she had the wound sutured and was happy with her work. The stitches were neat and even, and she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. After getting rid of the needle, she placed a thick bandage over her handiwork and secured it with some tape. She wiped her hands with a wipe and brushed the hair from Knox’s forehead.

“You’re all patched up now. You won’t lose any more blood. Heal and come back to me.”

“Isn’t that touching?”

The voice that came from the doorway immediately sent a sliver of dread down her spine. When she looked up, she was shocked and felt the world careen and tilt under her. Russell. He was alive. But how had he survived? This couldn’t be real. She had to be imagining things.

“I’ve been looking for you for a very long time, babe.”

Fear clawed at her, but was quickly replaced by anger. “Get away from me, you bastard. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Tsk, tsk. Yes, you almost did me in, but as you can see, I survived.” He opened his arms wide and slowly spun as if to show her that he was perfectly healthy.

She looked around the room and saw her salvation only a foot from her. But could she get to it before

Russell got to her?

“Got a new boyfriend, do you? Seems like a weakling to me. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of him for you. Then, I’ll take care of you. We’ve got some business to settle—you and I—and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.”

Russell leaped at her, and she dove for the arrow lying to her right. But just as her fingers closed around it, she was slammed to the ground face-first and pinned to the floor by his big body, unable to move.

She was going to die. She could almost come to terms with that, but for one thing. Knox would die too, and she couldn’t allow that to happen because of her.

His neck hurt, and his throat was so raw he could barely swallow, but Rose was in danger, and Knox had to save her. He fought his way to consciousness to find his mate pinned to the ground by another rogue. He thought all of them had been taken care of, but there had obviously been a stray who had lagged behind.

His body felt like lead as he tried to push himself from the floor, but fear and anger gave him the strength to stumble to his feet. Thankfully, the rogue was too preoccupied with Rose to notice his approach—he’d never understand how rogues survived at all with their careless disregard for their surroundings—but Rose’s eyes locked with his a split second before he reached for the lycan. He yanked the man back by his hair, and

Rose flipped over as quick as lightning and stabbed one of her arrows, iron-end first, through the bastard’s chest.

The rogue gasped, and Knox fell weakly to the floor. He’d lost too much blood, and he’d just used up the last reserves of his strength to help her. As he slipped once again into unconsciousness, he hoped Rose would find happiness in her life.

“This time, you die for good, you bastard.” Rose stared in horror as Knox slid to the floor once again before looking back at Russell.

He reached toward her, but she twisted the iron shaft and pushed it further into his heart. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she had last time she thought she’d killed him. This time, she’d be one hundred percent positive Russell was dead. She gave the shaft one last push, and blood began pooling underneath his body.

Within moments, he gasped for air, then stopped breathing altogether. She checked his pulse—none. And his skin was turning a sickly gray. Russell would stay dead this time.

She scooted over to Knox, pulled his head onto her lap once again, and sagged against the bed, where she wept until exhaustion overtook her.

“Knox?”

The soft voice floated through the air, barely penetrating the fog enshrouding his brain. The ef ort it took to lift his heavy eyelids was too much, but he had no choice other than to answer the cal of his mate. Everything inside him strained toward her, every cell, every fiber that made him who he was, even as his body fought the movement.

A piece of him wanted to stay in the blissful, peaceful limbo he’d been lingering in. No fighting, no rogues to deal with, no pain, no . . . Rose. Rose! His Rose. But she wasn’t his, was she? He loved her, needed her. She was his mate, the other half of his soul, but she would never accept him for who he was, and could he bear it if she walked away from him? Could he let her walk away from him?

No. And for that, she would hate him more. Maybe it was best to stay in limbo, sweet oblivion, where he was numb and pain no longer touched him.

“Knox! Answer me, please. I need you.”

His heart thumped hard in response to her distressed pleas. Was she in danger? Even limbo couldn’t keep his wolf from the innate need to protect his mate. He sat up and blinked his eyes several times, trying to get rid of the gritty feel.

“Knoxxxx?”

The vibrations of anguish in her voice cut through him like a knife, tearing at his heart, eating away at his soul. He had to go to her, had to answer her, had to protect her. He sat up and winced. Why was he so lethargic? Why did every movement he make take more effort than he felt he could give?

“Rose? Where are you?” His throat was dry and hurt. Each word scratched like sandpaper.

“Knox? Talk to me so I can find you.”

“I’m over here, baby.” He tried to stand, but his legs were like jel y, and he plopped hard back on his ass.

“Oh my God! It is you!”

When she came through the fog, her aura was like a bright ray of sunshine breaking the haze and scorching it with beautiful light until it dissipated into smaller and smaller tendrils and vanished altogether. If this was the light people saw at the end of the tunnel, he’d gladly walk into it without a second thought. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was positive that no matter how long he lived, he’d never see a more glorious sight than she.

She made his heart beat, not in a mechanical rhythm necessary for life, but in happy thumps that yearned for every next beat made within her presence. He didn’t just exist around her. He thrived.

She kneeled next to him, and he pul ed her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Her warm body cuddled against him, and her natural scent—tinged with lilac and honeysuckle—tickled his nose. She leaned back and framed his face with her hands, and not even her tears could squash the delight he felt from holding her.

“What’s wrong, Rose?”

“I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone forever.” She buried her face against his chest and sobbed.

He rubbed what he hoped was soothing circles on her back and wondered why she was so distraught. Why had she thought she’d lost him? But it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was upset because she thought she’d lost him, which meant . . . she cared for him. His chest swelled, and he wanted to shout out in joy as he rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head.

Her silky onyx locks tickled his nose, and he sat back and tipped her chin up with his fingers until her pale blue eyes, glossy and swol en with tears, stared straight into his soul.

“You were upset because you thought you’d lost me?”

“Of course I was.”

“Is it not too much to hope for that you care for me just a little, even though I’m a lycan?” He framed her face and fanned his fingers over her soft skin.

She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned into his touch before answering. “I’m sorry for generalizing you. You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful, caring man, and I’ve fal en in love with you.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say those words to me, Rose. They are words that wil hold the most meaning to me for al time.

You must know I love you.”

She nodded. “It took me a while to figure it out, or believe it, but I do know.”

He kissed her. When she instantly parted her lips for him, he groaned, slanted his mouth over hers, and deepened the kiss.

She tasted of everything wonderful that had been forbidden to him. Now that he’d tasted submission, surrender, desire . . . love for him on her lips, he’d never want for another thing in life. That wasn’t entirely true. He’d wish for a mil ion more kisses from her.

Her delicate tongue tangled with his and stroked along the seam of his lips. He needed to claim her, wanted to imprint himself on her so she’d never forget she belonged to him. But something was wrong. He broke the kiss, nearly forgetting his thoughts when she cried out in protest, but he needed to know what had made her so upset.

“Why did you think you’d lost me?”

“I was attacked at my house, and you saved me, but not before you were injured. You bled out fast and went unconscious. I didn’t think you’d make it.” She cupped his jaw in her hand, and he rubbed against her.

Everything came rushing back at that moment. This was a dream. He’d been injured, possibly fatal y. Rage tore through him when he remembered how the rogues had handled Rose. They’d hurt her, and he’d kil ed them for it, but not before the last one had gotten in a lucky swipe at him. And then another one had come, and he’d barely been able to help her. He reached up to his neck, but it was fine. Of course it would be since his throat was only wounded in the conscious world.

“I couldn’t wake you up. No matter what I did, you wouldn’t open your eyes until Russel came. But you passed out again after yanking him of me. I kil ed him this time—for real.”

“Russel ? The same Russell who killed your friend?” Anger coursed through him.

She nodded.

“I thought you already kil ed him?”

“I thought I did too, but apparently the misconceptions I had about how to kil lycans al owed him to survive what I thought was sure death. Al this time, I thought he was gone, all this time—”

“Shh. It wil be okay. I promise.” He stood and pul ed her up with him.

Now that he knew his real wounds had been dictating his body in the dream world, he could shake of the feeling of lethargy.

He would go back to reality. He would go back for her, Rose, his mate, and he would live for her.

A squeak of surprise escaped her plump lips, as if she’d only just realized he didn’t have a scratch on him. She reached up and traced his neck, no doubt where the hideous wound had marred his skin. Her brows furrowed.

“How is this possible?”

“This is another one of those things that you didn’t know about even through al of your research on lycans. Mates have a mental connection that is strong enough to fol ow them into their dreams.”

“We’re dreaming.” She spun around. “None of this is real?”

“It’s real . . . but not.” He grinned when she scowled at him. “We make up our own fantasies here. We feel everything that takes place. We can control what happens, but of course, it only happens here. While we remember it al upon awaking, it cannot breach the real world. If you get pissed at me and shoot me with an arrow again, I won’t be injured when I awake. What happens in our dreams, stays in our dreams. The same is true for reality.”

She frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“So you are stil injured in reality?”

Rose sat up with a start. She’d fallen asleep. Knox was still lying across her lap, and she was still sitting on the hard floor, leaning against the bed. He’d been in her dreams? No. It’s not possible. But yet she knew it was.

That’s how he found me. While she’d been casually showing him around her neighborhood in the dream the night before, he’d been honing in on her location. When he woke up, she was going to throttle him for not telling her about this dream stuff sooner.

“Knox.” She brushed his blond hair back from his face, and his lashes fluttered.

He sucked in a great gulp of air as his eyes opened. She wanted to cry in relief, but she cradled him to her instead.

“Rose?” His voice sounded gravelly and strained.

“Don’t talk, Knox. Can you shift? You have to so you can heal.” If he didn’t, he’d die. He’d lost too much blood, and the damage was too great. She didn’t know how he’d held on this long.

“I don’t know.”

“Please do it for me.” She bent and kissed him gently on the lips. “Don’t leave me.”

She gasped when golden hairs poked through every inch of his exposed skin. Fangs shot down over his bottom lip, and his muscles began to contort. Within a split second, a wolf stood staring at her.

Not a wolf, Knox. His midnight blue eyes were the same and watched her intently, as if he thought she might run away screaming at any moment.

Happiness shot through her because she knew he’d be okay now. She’d found him in their dreams, and he’d come back for her.

“You can touch me if you’d like.”

She jumped. “Knox?”

“Yes. It’s me. You didn’t expect me to be able to talk, did you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, couldn’t be any weirder than changing into a wolf.” She frowned and then laughed when she thought about how funny it would be if he spoke to her as a wolf.

His low chuckle floated through her brain. “We have to have some way to communicate in wolf form.”

“I guess. I’m just awed at all of the things I never knew about lycans. I’ve done so much research, but it seems I really don’t know as much as I thought I did. I got so much wrong.”

“We guard our secrets wel . Our survival depends on it.”

She sucked in a breath when he walked to her and nudged at her hand with his nose. He was amazing. He was beautiful. She’d never seen a golden wolf before, and the contrast the color lent to his eyes was breathtaking. She hesitantly sifted her fingers through his fur. It was soft and thick, and she had a strange urge to bury her face in it.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Nowhere close to as gorgeous as you are.”