Liam, you idiot. This is sooo not a good idea. Stop. Now. The virus lay between us like a vicious chaperone.
I let my hand fall away. She grabbed it to trace my fingers with her own, as though fascinated by the contours, before raising it to her face and sniffing along the palm. Her eyes flashed silver from beneath her lashes, and she growled low in her throat as she brought her lips to the very tip of the index finger, giving the smallest flick of the tongue to taste me.
The effect was akin to being struck by lightning, the energy coursing through me, threatening to take me out at the knees. The wulf surged, but my exhaustion hampered it, as well as me. I won’t risk her. I shoved it brutally back down. Gotta get control. She’s playing with fire. I struggled to grasp coherent thoughts as they scattered like leaves in the wind.
“Is this how you guard all the guys?”
Sam jerked away as though I’d burned her. I caught the faintest glimmer of something in her expression—frustration? disgust? anger?—before she shuttered it. A muscle jumped in her jaw as she took a deep breath, before releasing a small smile more akin to a baring of teeth.
“Those I don’t castrate,” she replied. But her voice shook.
She backed away from me, tossing her hair over her shoulders. My body still on fire, I stood mesmerized by the cascade of russet and gold. I was grateful when she fetched her tea, giving me a moment to compose myself. She took a long sip before raising her eyes to mine. They were beautiful, the color of a summer storm—fully human and mad as hell. At me, or at herself, I didn’t know.
“I’m more tired than I thought. I’ll crash once I’ve drunk this.” Something more flickered in her eyes, but all she added was, “You’d better go.”
I became aware that pajama bottoms left a lot to be desired in the discretion department. I swear that battling with my wulf had nothing on turning and walking away from her. I forced my feet to take me toward my bedroom, aware of her gaze raking me from behind.
“Good night, soldier.” A growl lurked beneath the words.
“’Night, Sam.” Before my resolve fractured into a million jagged pieces, I closed the bedroom door.
* * *
After several failed attempts at casual conversation over breakfast, it became apparent that our brief interaction the night before had pulled us across a line. Retreat no longer seemed an option. Every gesture and look possessed hidden undercurrents that elevated our senses and made us aware of the thing growing between us. A thing we could do nothing about so long as the threat of the virus loomed.
It was almost a relief to load Keen into the SUV and head to the clinic where I introduced Sam as my friend who wished to become a vet tech.
Mandy, now sporting vivid purple bangs, embraced Sam like a sister and carted her into the depths of the building. Meanwhile, Darlene took the opportunity to pull me aside.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m a bit bruised, but fine.”
“Listen, I wanted to thank you again for what you did. I still can’t believe what I saw.”
“It wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t slipped,” I said. “I got lucky.”
Her bright blue gaze perused me skeptically. “Well, I’m glad I called you.” She frowned, as though suddenly remembering something. “Hey, if Sam’s going to shadow you, she should get her rabies vaccinations. They found another rabid skunk just outside of Beausejour yesterday. It’s going to be a bad year for it.”
“Right.” I wondered if wulfan got rabies, but considering the virulence of the virus, I suspected they could. Like all vets in the area, I’d received the three shots at days zero, seven and twenty-one, and boosters every year or so after. Two years ago, I’d come in contact with a cow that died from rabies and I’d had to endure an extra series of shots. Not fun, but I didn’t contract rabies, either.
With viruses stalking through my thoughts, I plunged into my day.
Hours later, I carried a cat into the x-ray room when I bumped into Sam trailing Mandy out of the surgery. I noted Sam’s glazed expression and grinned. Mandy chattered on, her narration laced with an abundance of inventive profanity substitutions—in her element and loving every minute. Sam shot me a pleading look. I wasn’t used to her appearing helpless, so I relented.
“Lunch in forty minutes?” I suggested.
Mandy paused in her discussion of sterilization of operating equipment to glance my way. “I’m eating in,” she said, as I expected her to—Mandy was vegan and quite purist about it. But she’d grown attached to her new protégé. “I have enough to share with Sam.”
“I’d love a break,” piped Sam, with a note of desperation that passed straight over Mandy’s iridescent head.
“You can keep me company for lunch. Grab Keen and meet me at the truck.”
Mandy shot me a look.
“You’re welcome to join us.”
“I don’t put that—shi . . . sludge—in my body, thank you.” She turned on her heel and headed for the library, which doubled as a lunchroom. I watched her go, disappointed in her word choices.
By the time I exited the clinic, Sam and Keen were in the SUV. Sam was on the phone, and when I arrived, she signed off. I slid into the driver’s seat.
“Who was that?” Belatedly, I realized that she was entitled to her privacy.
She glanced at me but answered readily enough. “Josh . . . I wanted to know how he was doing.”
“And?”
“He’s good, or as good as can be expected.” She let her head fall back against the seat and closed her
