Werewolf in Alaska

Chapter 17

Jake had really screwed himself. Because he’d acted like a total idiot and shifted in a place that wasn’t secure, he had a bullet in his shoulder. He’d never been shot before, and he would have loved to have missed that special experience. He wasn’t a fan of pain, and his shoulder hurt like the very devil.

Worse yet, he needed help. After bragging to Rachel about a Were’s ability to heal, he was faced with something he couldn’t handle by himself. Closing the wound with the bullet still in his shoulder wasn’t smart. Someone would have to take it out.

Yeah, right. Someone. He had only one option within a radius of a hundred miles, and he damned well knew it. Furthermore, he’d put himself in this pickle as a result of mismanaging his situation with her. How fitting that he’d have to swallow his pride and go crawling to her, begging for her medical expertise.

He wouldn’t be required to crawl or beg, though, and he knew that. She would help without being asked. She was that kind of person, that kind of human. He admired the hell out of her.

Resting on a bed of pine needles deep in the forest, he calculated the passage of time by watching the shadows. He wanted to give Rachel a chance to go home and ease Lionel gently out the door. That wouldn’t be easy. The kid had appointed himself her protector.

Jake couldn’t blame him for firing that gun. He’d thought Rachel was in danger and had acted accordingly. In Lionel’s place, Jake would have done the same.

Only Jake could shoulder the blame, literally, for this fiasco. The saving grace, if there was one, might be Rachel’s strong reaction to his shift. She’d expected roses and lollipops and he’d disabused her of that fantasy today. Maybe now she’d give up her crazy idea that they should risk a life together.

Sharp longing made him groan aloud. Mental pain could rival the ache of a bullet buried in his flesh. But no matter how much he craved the same thing she did, he couldn’t let her know. Mating with her would be an act of pure selfishness.

At last he decided enough time had passed that he could chance sending her a message. That in itself was amazing. She’d taken it as a sign that they were destined for each other. He couldn’t go along with that. But scientifically speaking, she was an unusual human.

He knew several Were scientists who would be excited to discover Rachel’s ability to link telepathically with a werewolf. They would never get the chance to study the phenomenon, though. That would mean revealing what he’d shared with her, and that wasn’t going to happen.

Shifting his weight on the pine needles, he focused his mind on Rachel, searching for her the way he might turn the dial of a radio looking for a station he wanted. There. The link seemed to light up a part of his brain, and he could see her as if she sat next to him.

He sent her his question. Are you alone?

Yes. How are you?

He gave a little sigh of resignation. Admitting his weakness, even to someone who wouldn’t judge him, wasn’t easy.

Jake? Are you badly hurt?

Bullet lodged in my shoulder. Need you to take it out so I can heal.

Oh, my God. Are you mobile? I can come there.

Making his way back to her would cost him through loss of blood, but he’d rather be in her cabin for the bullet removal and recovery period. I’ll come to you. Watch for me by the back door.

I’ll be there. Be careful.

Thanks. That warning comes a little late.

I know. Just get here, Jake. Her concern reached across the distance between them.

He rose from the blood-soaked bed of pine needles. Then he had another thought. Where’s Lionel? If the kid showed up with a gun, Jake was too weak to outrun him.

He promised not to search for you today. You have time to come to me.

Thank you. He was amazed that she’d been able to keep Lionel from tracking him down. The kid’s instincts were good. He sensed that Rachel was in some kind of danger from this wolf she’d been hanging out with, although he didn’t understand the nature of the threat. Lionel was worried about a broken neck, not a broken heart.

Jake thought about Lionel as he made his slow and painful way through the trees. He wondered if Rachel had considered Lionel when she’d dreamed up her plan to run off and live with the wolves. Lionel couldn’t do that, so what did she imagine would become of him? He wasn’t launched on a career of his own yet. He needed a boost from Rachel before that could happen.

Obviously Rachel hadn’t taken all the issues into account when she’d blithely announced that she was ready to mate with Jake. Her suggestion had been an impulse, and like so many impulses, it would be discarded when reality allowed her to see the impossibility of that dream.

Still, the idea that she’d even have that thought was surprising. He’d assumed she wouldn’t want to mate with a werewolf any more than he wanted to mate with a human. He’d underestimated her ability to adapt to a changing situation.

Her flexibility was far greater than his. But then, she wasn’t dealing with such high stakes. By choosing to mate with a Were, she’d have some personal challenges, but she wouldn’t be paving the way for a potential assault on her entire species. He would. Or at least that’s how he saw it.

The trip back to Rachel’s cabin seemed five times longer than the hike out, but at last he saw her place through the trees. He paused and sniffed the air. He didn’t smell anyone’s scent but hers, but he wasn’t at his best right now.

He’d lean on that telepathic connection again. I’m close to your cabin. Are you still alone?

Jake, thank God. Yes, I’m alone. Do you need help?

No, I’ll make it there under my own power. With one more check of the perimeter, he headed for her back deck. He’d never expected to climb these steps again as a wolf, yet here he was.

She stood with the door open. Although she was in shadow, every line of her body communicated anguish. Oh, Jake.

It’s only a scratch. He couldn’t resist acting like a hero from an old Western.

That’s what they all say. Once he was inside, she lapsed into regular speech. “I’ve made up your bed like it was before. Go on in and lie down. I have water boiling.”

Tension eased out of him the moment he stepped into her cabin. He would be okay. Rachel would make sure of it. He could relax now and concentrate on recovering from this latest insanity.

Padding over to the bed she’d created with her quilt was like coming home. He was careful about how he climbed onto it, though. He suspected last time he’d stained it with his blood. Sighing, he settled down on his right side, leaving his bloody left shoulder accessible.

He didn’t fool himself into thinking this would be a lot of fun. Digging out a bullet was a serious proposition. But his trust in Rachel was absolute, and without a single reservation, he surrendered himself to her care.

Her almond scent preceded her into the bedroom. “I’m ready to do this, Jake, but I don’t have any anesthetic.”

I know.

“I do, however, have a bottle of Grandpa Ike’s Wild Turkey.”

Jake considered that. Might work.

“I don’t want to give you anything that will cause you more harm. Can a werewolf drink alcohol?”

Absolutely. Remember that I’m not really a wolf.

“All right. Then let’s try a little painkiller.” Crouching by his head, she poured a generous amount of Wild Turkey into a bowl. “Lap it up.”

Easing to his stomach, he tasted the booze and choked.

“Maybe not.” She started to take the bowl away.

He put a paw on her arm to keep her from doing that. The stuff was strong, but he needed strong. Steeling himself against the bite of the whiskey, he drank the entire bowl. It burned all the way down his throat to his gut. But then the alcohol hit his brain, and he ceased to give a shit about . . . anything.

Rachel sat back on her heels. “Wow. I’ve never seen a drunk wolf before.”

Take a good look, little lady.

“Little lady? Jake, are you channeling some rhinestone cowboy?”

Rhinestone cowboys don’t get shot. I took a bullet. Show some respect. But the pain of the bullet had receded with every lap of the Wild Turkey, and now it was a dull ache that he could easily ignore.

“You did take a bullet, Jake.” Her voice was soothing as she bathed his wound with warm water. A lovely voice. He hadn’t appreciated how melodious that voice was until now. Melodious. Good word. He should remember it. Perfect description of Rachel’s voice.

“Well, Jake, from the way you’re lying there as if you didn’t have a care in the world, I’m going to assume the Wild Turkey has done its work. So now I’ll do mine. But the Wild Turkey aside, this is going to pinch a bit.”

Jake remained in his don’t-give-a-shit daze until searing pain ruined it. He howled.

“I know. It hurts.” She continued to work.

Hurts? That’s like saying the Grand Canyon’s a ditch! He howled again, louder this time.

“Hang in there, buddy.” She sounded as if she might be gritting her teeth as she said that.

He had a choice of gritting his teeth like a hero or howling like a wuss. He’d lapped up a bowl of Wild Turkey. He howled.

“Almost got it.” She swore. “There! It’s out!”

Jake howled some more, just because he could.

“I suppose now you can do your thing. Shift and make yourself better.”

He thought about that possibility, even tried to work up the energy. Can’t.

“Why not?”

Just realized. Can’t shift while plastered.

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s a trade-off. Without the Wild Turkey, you would have suffered more. I’ll apply a compression bandage for a while. You can shift later on.”

Yeah. I’ll shift later. Don’t shave me.

“I won’t.” She chuckled.

Thanks. He winced when she first pressed the gauze pad to his wound, but then it wasn’t so bad, especially when she began stroking his fur with her other hand.

Relieved that the bullet was out, he relaxed against the soft quilt. The booze was still working on him, thank God, so the pain was bearable. That combined with her gentle touch made him drowsy. Maybe I’ll sleep now.

“That’s a great idea, Jake. Sleep will help you heal faster, too. It’s been a tough day.”

No kidding. Hey, Rachel, just so you know . . . His fuzzy brain had trouble forming a coherent sentence.

“You appreciate what I did. I know you do, but Jake, I’m the one who got you into this bad situation. If you hadn’t felt compelled to shift right then because of what I’d said, you wouldn’t have been shot.”

Don’t blame yourself. My fault.

“Okay, then we share the blame, but you’re the one who took the bullet.” She caressed his ruff.

I did, didn’t I? He couldn’t help feeling proud of that.

“You’re very brave, Jake.” She continued to stroke him.

You, too, Rachel. In fact, I’m beginning to think I . . . he lost his train of thought, which was too bad because he sensed it was important.

“You’re what?” She leaned forward, as if that would encourage him to finish the sentence.

But he couldn’t finish it. Exhaustion and booze claimed him. He fell asleep with the delicious sensation of her hand moving over his fur.

• • •

Rachel sat beside Jake for a long time. Normally she would have bandaged a wound like this, but she’d promised not to shave him, and besides, she wasn’t sure what would happen if he woke up and wanted to shift. Could cause major problems. So she held the pressure bandage in place.

Eventually the bleeding stopped and she set the bandage aside, although she continued to stroke his fur. It felt so incredibly soft under her fingertips, and she doubted he would have allowed her to pet him under normal circumstances. He would bristle at the idea of being treated like a dog. But now he was injured, drunk, and fast asleep.

The last time he’d been in her bedroom, which seemed like years ago, she’d thought he was a semitame wolf. That still wasn’t a bad description of Jake—part man, part wolf, all male. In a few short hours of fabulous lovemaking, he’d ruined her for anyone else.

Nice job, Jake. Well, it wasn’t over till it was over. She hadn’t given up on her campaign to change his rigid beliefs. But if that proved impossible, she was pretty sure she’d be losing the love of her life. Unless he could see that, though, they were both doomed to settle for second best. What a shame.

As her own weariness made her yawn, she decided to grab a pillow and blanket so she could sleep on the floor next to her patient. That way she could be aware if he moved. Moving could make the bleeding start again.

First she tidied up the area and carried everything except some extra gauze pads into the bathroom. Then she changed into a tank top and pj bottoms so she’d be more comfortable. Jake didn’t stir. She wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t slept much the night before and he hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at most.

Now that she was up, she felt hungry. Worry over Jake had stolen her appetite earlier, but now she wanted . . . a candy bar. Perfect. Maybe two candy bars. Lionel would have a fit if he knew. Not only was she harboring the wolf, but she was compounding her foolishness by snacking on sugar.

She walked around lowering all the blinds in the house while she ate the first candy bar. No sense in giving anyone, especially Lionel, a peek into what was going on in her little cabin in the middle of the afternoon. He probably wouldn’t bother her, though, because he thought she was having a hot love affair.

He’d blushed when she’d mentioned wanting to catch up on her sleep today. Then he’d asked if Jake would be by later, and she’d said he might. Sure enough, he had come by and was currently in her bedroom recovering from the bullet Lionel had pumped into him.

The poor kid had thought he was saving her life, and she couldn’t blame him for that. But she couldn’t let him see the wolf again under any circumstances. As far as Lionel would ever know, that wolf had lit out for the tundra.

Lionel obviously didn’t like Jake, the man, either. He believed Jake had been careless in his guardianship of the wolf, which meant he wasn’t the guy for Rachel. Lionel hadn’t looked happy to hear that Jake might spend the night at her house. But at least the prospect of that would keep Lionel away until morning.

As she folded a blanket and laid it next to Jake, she leaned down to inspect his wound. Still looked okay. He whined in his sleep and his legs twitched, but that didn’t cause him to bleed, so maybe he’d be fine until he recovered from his drinking binge and could shift.

Plopping the pillow down, she stretched out on her back and unwrapped the second candy bar. As she ate it and listened to Jake breathe, she felt calm for the first time since the awful moment when Lionel had found them on the trail.

She was gradually becoming used to the idea that her lover was sometimes a big black wolf. Then again, he might not be her lover anymore. Maybe by trying to convince him that they should consider mating, she’d made him too wary of her. He needed her now, but once he healed, he had no reason to stay. Well, except the biggest reason of all—they belonged together.

He wouldn’t have to stick around to monitor her behavior and make sure she didn’t leak werewolf info. After this incident, he couldn’t doubt her trustworthiness. And his days of running through the woods of Polecat were over. Everything pointed to Jake Hunter selling his cabin and moving somewhere else. Where would that leave her?

She had no answer for that, but at least Jake was okay. That was the main thing. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about all the Wild Turkey he’d lapped up and wondered if werewolves had hangovers.

Sometime later, she got her answer when he began to groan and whimper as if he would die any minute. She leaped up and crouched next to him, her heart pounding. “Is it your shoulder?”

No, it’s my head! Evil gnomes with hammers and chisels are excavating my skull!

She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. He wouldn’t appreciate that. “You have a hangover, Jake.”

This is no hangover. I’ve had hangovers, and this is way worse. My brain is bleeding.

“Wild Turkey packs a punch. Maybe if you tried to shift, you’d feel—”

What if I shift and my head explodes? What about that?

“It won’t.”

How do you know? When was the last time you shifted?

“Never, but I recognize the symptoms of a hangover, even in a werewolf. I thought shifting might help.”

Can’t shift. The top of my head would come off.

She gave up arguing the point. “Do you want to try and swallow some ibuprofen?”

I guess. Rachel, my head really hurts. I mean really, really.

“I’m sure it does.” She kept her smile to herself, but he was pretty funny. Her big bad wolf, who’d fought a bear and survived being shot, had been brought low by a bottle of Wild Turkey. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen and an ice pack for your head. Don’t thrash around while I’m gone or you’ll start bleeding again.”

Okay.

In the kitchen cupboard she searched around and finally found what she was looking for. Grandpa Ike had loved his Wild Turkey, and on some mornings he’d needed an ice pack. He had the old-fashioned kind—a soft-sided bag that unscrewed from the top.

She filled it with ice, ran a bowl full of water, and carried both into her bathroom, where she picked up the bottle of ibuprofen. Armed with her hangover remedies, she returned to kneel beside Jake, who continued to moan.

“I need you to lift your head so I can put the pills into the back of your mouth.”

Don’t want to.

“Come on. You’ll feel better once you get these down.”

With another anguished groan, he lifted his broad head and opened his mouth. She set two pills on the back of his tongue. “Now swallow. I have water here to help wash them down.”

He closed his jaws and gave her a baleful glare. Those damned gnomes are trying to kill me.

“I know. Swallow.”

His eyes closed and his throat moved.

“Good. Now drink a little water.”

Moving very slowly, he lowered his head to the bowl and took a couple of laps. That’s plenty. He sank back onto the quilt.

“Now hold still. Let me position the ice pack.” She settled it between his ears. “How’s that?”

He sighed. A little better.

“Good.” She picked up the bowl of water and left quickly, afraid she’d start laughing any minute.

Oh, for a camera, although he’d be horrified if she tried to take his picture. She’d never be able to show the picture to anyone, though.

Maybe she didn’t need a camera, after all. As she’d told Lionel, she had a good memory. The image of her scary werewolf lying on her flowered quilt with Grandpa Ike’s old-fashioned ice pack on his head would stay with her forever.