There was no way he would be able to hide Sabrina from Ransom, so he had to fess up. “No, a friend. She’s in trouble.”
“Shit.” Ransom took another shot, then got to his feet. “You’re risking my neck for a piece of ass?”
Cross gritted his teeth, trying not to react to the other man’s taunts. His wolf, however, growled so loud he could feel it rumble in his chest. “Some people are trying to hurt her, nearly killed her tonight. I got to her in time.”
There was a flicker of conflict in Ransom’s eyes. “Why can’t you stash her somewhere else?” he asked. “You could bring her to Timbuktu and no one’ll find her.”
“She’s scared. And I can’t just leave her alone in a strange place. What would I do if she wandered off?” That, and he couldn’t be alone with her.
“And you? You wanna tell me why you showed up at Bucky’s half-dead?” He pointed his chin at his shoulder.
“You wanna tell me why I found you floating in the Hudson last year?” he challenged back.
Green-gold eyes turned dark. “Fair enough.”
“Look,” he brushed his palm down his face, “I just need some time to figure stuff out. But that means I have to go and check on a couple of things, and in the meantime, she needs a safe place to stay. You don’t have to do anything, just make sure no one gets to her. She can’t leave the cabin.”
“What, did you put a spell on her or something?”
His jaw hardened. “She just won’t, okay? Look, I don’t have anyone else I can trust. I swear, and I’ll take care of her.”
“I don’t run a fucking B and B, so of course you take care of her,” Ransom said gruffly. “All right. You can keep your girl here. But after this”—he pointed at Cross with the bottle in his hand—“we’re even.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
Ransom kicked the table aside and marched toward the stairs. “You take the couch,” he said without looking back.
“What, I don’t get towels?”
“Fuck you.” The boots stomped louder as he ascended the stairs. He turned the corner on the landing and disappeared, then a few seconds later, a door slammed loudly.
Weariness sank into him, replacing the adrenaline that was now seeping out of his system. He plopped down on the chair wishing he’d taken up Ransom’s offer of a drink. Even a few seconds of a buzz would have been welcome right now.
Taking off his shirt, he winced as the fabric abraded his injured shoulder. The skin was still red and angry, but much better than it had been a few hours ago. With a wave of his hand, he covered it with fresh bandages and some burn salve from a recipe Signe had taught him. His brows drew together at the thought of his grandmother and all those summers he spent with her, learning how to make potions and activate them with simple spells. But thoughts of Signe always brought him back to that one particular summer and one particular lesson he could never forget. The irony was not lost on him.
Putting those thoughts aside, he concentrated on getting comfortable. Rest would help, and he could get it out here. No one would be able to track him anymore, not here. The Savage Wolves MC kept to themselves and had no alliances or allegiances; after all, no one liked associating with Lone Wolves. Most who turned Lone Wolf were outcasts or simply had no place in Lycan society. Though they were not allowed to hold territory and were required by Lycan law to register with the high council, there wasn’t much oversight, and as long as they kept out of trouble and wore a tattoo to signify their status, no one bothered them much. It wasn’t usual for Lone Wolves to come together; it was rare, and so was forming some kind of club. He supposed The Savage Wolves were able to skirt rules about territory because they were technically a motorcycle club and not a clan.
Leaning back on the couch, he closed his eyes. Just a couple of hours. Uninterrupted sleep should help him figure out what to do next.
Chapter Four
Without a watch or her phone, Sabrina didn’t know what time it was when she woke up. For just a second, she thought she’d dreamt it all. A bunch of people appeared in her loft in New York and tried to kill her, then she was rescued by a man she couldn’t remember meeting who turned into a giant white wolf and could also teleport, and now they were in Kentucky. But, when she found herself inside the cabin, wearing the flannel pajamas she’d found folded on the bed, she knew it hadn’t been a dream.
She lay in bed, her fingers twisting her ring as she contemplated the events of last night. Her life had changed overnight, and she had more questions than answers. But these answers wouldn’t come easy, and maybe for now, she’d just have to roll with it.
Sitting up, she crawled toward the window next to the bed. The early morning sun was peeking out from behind the mountains, bathing the valley in a soft light. Her fingers itched to paint it. If only she had her painting supplies. Well, she thought, she’d have to go outside first, but the thought of stepping out of the door made her nervous.
After doing her business in the cramped bathroom, she headed toward the kitchen. Her heart slammed into her ribcage when she realized Cross was sitting at the table.
“Did you sleep all right?”
“I, uh …” Her tongue found it difficult to move as she fully took in Cross’s presence. Despite being seated, he still seemed to take up a lot of space in the cabin. Last night, she’d been so distracted by, well, all the stuff
