Werewolf in Alaska

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