Werewolf in Alaska

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.

Chapter 18

When Jake woke the next time, the evil gnomes had put away their hammers and chisels. Something soft and squishy rested against his forehead, and when he tilted his head back, it sagged down into his eyes, covering them. He smelled water inside.

Oh, yeah. Rachel had fixed him up with an ice pack. He’d caught a glimpse of it before she’d laid it on his head. He’d seen that kind in cartoons, but never in real life. He’d probably looked like a cartoon wearing the silly thing.

But it had worked like a charm, and so had the ibuprofen. He felt a hundred percent better. Thank you, Rachel.

No response. Yet she had to be close by. The air was filled with her scent.

Nudging the ice pack away from his eyes, he lifted his head to see where she was. Ah, right there beside him, sound asleep and clutching a candy wrapper. He was touched that she’d made a bed on the floor so that she could be close in case he needed her.

She lay curled on her side facing him, strands of her rich brown hair lying across her cheek. She had a smudge of dark chocolate there, too. If he were a man, he could lean over and swipe it clean with his tongue.

Sure, he could do it as a wolf, too, but it wouldn’t be the same. It couldn’t lead to other activities. Gazing at her in the skimpy tank top and cotton pj bottoms, he was motivated to change his designation and change it fast.

Speeding the healing process was a very good reason for that, but he could think of another one. Making love to her again wouldn’t be particularly smart, though. The smart thing would be to wake her up and ask her to pick up some clothes from his house. He could shift while she was gone.

Yep, that’s exactly what he should do. Time to start wrapping up this project. She wasn’t going to blow the whistle on him and the Were community. It wasn’t in her nature, and as she’d said, no one would believe her, anyway. So he had no excuse for hanging around.

What a depressing line of thought. But it made perfect sense, and he was supposed to be an intelligent being. He’d stayed long enough to neutralize her shocking discovery about him. He could go now.

On the other hand, how would it look if he left abruptly? After all she’d done for him, wouldn’t that be rude? He certainly didn’t want to leave her with the impression that he was an ungrateful jerk who accepted her kindness and then took off.

So he couldn’t go yet. He should ease into it. He liked that reasoning so much better. He could shift now and . . . see what developed. Maybe he could show his gratitude in a way that would make them both happy.

But first he had to shift. After the way she’d reacted to it out on the trail, he didn’t want to risk having her wake up in the middle of the action. Leaving the room wasn’t a good option, either. The less he moved his shoulder before he shifted, the less likely he’d make it bleed.

He needed to wake her up. So maybe he would give her cheek a little lick, after all. By stretching his neck, he could just reach her with his tongue.

She woke up with a gasp. “Jake! You scared me. Are you okay? You look better.”

I’m lots better. You cured my hangover.

“I’m glad.” She pushed herself up on one elbow. “I should check your shoulder.”

It’ll be fine. I’m ready to shift, but I . . . I wanted to warn you before I did.

She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

You can leave the room if you want.

“I want to stay right here.” Her gaze didn’t waver from his.

You’re sure?

“Yes.”

Then here goes. Lying back on the quilt, he closed his eyes and willed his shift. It would take longer than usual because he was weakened by the bullet wound, but once he’d accomplished it, he’d regain most of that strength.

For the second time in his life, he was shifting in front of a human. He’d never expected to do it once. This morning he’d been desperate to shock her, and she’d admitted to being freaked-out.

She was obviously still unnerved by the process. He could feel her nervous energy, and it distracted him. But he had to admire her courage. She could have left the room and she’d chosen not to.

Taking a deep breath, he blocked his awareness of her as best he could and concentrated on his transformation. He’d shifted hundreds of times, maybe even thousands, and he was good at it. Adverse conditions no longer affected him. He could shift anywhere, anytime.

Except now. Opening his eyes, he gazed at her.

“Jake? Is something wrong?”

I can’t do it.

“You can’t shift? You mean your shifter is broken?”

Not permanently, I hope. I think . . . it’s you.

“Me? But you did it in front of me this morning.”

I was in a different mood then. I was trying to prove something. Now I’m not.

Her silver eyes grew troubled. “Then I guess you want me to leave the room, huh?”

She sounded so disappointed that he didn’t have the heart to send her away. It would be like denying her fireworks on the Fourth of July. No, please stay.

“But I’m making you choke. You’re having shiftus interruptus.”

You make it sound like erectile dysfunction.

“It sort of is, right?”

I beg your pardon. I don’t have those problems.

“Then why aren’t you shifting?”

He thought about that. Maybe, although it was counterintuitive, he needed her to be even closer to him so that he didn’t think of her as other. He decided to give that a whirl.

I want you to touch me while I shift.

“Touch you? Won’t that make it worse?”

Maybe not. Put your hand on me. Let’s see what happens.

She scooted closer and rested her hand on his paw. “How’s that?”

Good. If it works, I’ll end up holding your hand. Now help me concentrate.

“Want me to close my eyes, too?”

That would miss the point of you being able to watch, wouldn’t it?