Wolf fever hotw 6, p.33
Wolf Fever hotw-6,
p.33
Carol felt relief and exhaustion, knowing that she no longer had to push herself to find a cure and that Ryan wouldn’t have to keep looking for a vaccine. She slumped down on the kitchen chair and wanted to sleep for the next year without waking to do anything.
Ryan saw the telltale signs that Carol was truly sick. He assumed she’d been trying to hide it from him earlier. Now he saw how her eyelids drooped, her eyes glassy and her face pale. She looked worn out and sick. Like he felt.
“What’s the cure?” he asked, ready to give it to Carol first.
She motioned to the fridge, teakettle, and herbs and spices sitting in containers on the counter. “A half-dozen remedies together. But I’ve detailed everything in my notes on the computer.”
He glanced at the packages of licorice sitting on the countertop. “Not the licorice.” He frowned at her. “Or the onion soaked all night in honey, surely.”
She smiled a little and reached for his hand. “At least we don’t have to try wolf’s bane.”
“Wolf’s bane?” Rosalind and Lelandi said at the same time.
Carol shrugged. “It could have killed us. I need to throw that remedy out before anyone drinks it by accident.”
Everyone looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Or it could have been a cure, according to werewolf lore. It was used for medicinal purposes eons ago. And as a poison.”
Lelandi asked, “Where is it?”
“The bottom-right crisper in the fridge, blue container.”
Rosalind went to dispose of it.
“Until we can move to Green Valley, Carol and I will stay here,” Ryan said, damned thankful they hadn’t had to try wolf’s bane. He hated the taste of licorice, and the idea of onions soaked in honey was sure to turn him off eating either for months.
“What about Puss?” Carol asked, and sneezed.
“Maybe Puss should stay with us a while longer while you get your rest,” Lelandi suggested.
Carol nodded. The fight was out of her. She needed to rest.
Ryan gathered her up into his arms, feeling how warm her body was and knowing she was running a fever.
“No one is to disturb us… for anything.”
Rosalind grinned. “I never thought I’d see the day that my brother would be mated.”
Lelandi patted Ryan’s back as he headed for the guest bedroom. “Take good care of her.”
“She’ll be good as new before you know it.”
* * *
But Carol wasn’t good as new in short order. She was run down, stressed to the max, and totally worn out. She lost her voice, coughed constantly, ran fevers, and ached all over. Ryan, who wasn’t nearly as sick, was still feeling poorly. He had to watch the way he coughed and grimaced every time he swallowed. Yet he took care of Carol as if he were her personal nurse, bossy sometimes and coaxing at other times.
He brought her fresh boxes of tissues and glasses of water and orange juice and sore throat lozenges and expectorant medicines. He forced down pots of ginger tea, onions minus honey, honey on toast—hopefully with the same benefit, small doses of licorice, and garlic. He tried all the remedies she’d used with Darien and the others who had contracted the virus, except for the exercise routine.
Three times the previous night, she’d had the damnable urge to shift, and the heat had again struck her. Three times, Ryan had made love to her, and to her amazement and joy, he’d coaxed the urge to shift right out of her. If she’d known that hot sex would keep the shift from occurring, she would have dragged him from the woods the first night she’d seen him and sneaked him into the guest bedroom to ply his erotic moves on her.
Now it was daylight, and the heat once again infiltrated her muscles and joints—and even her bones. She hadn’t had a fever in two days, so she knew the heat wasn’t due to that. This went deeper. When she tugged at the covers in a frantic way and then tried to pull off her long T-shirt, Ryan noticed her distress. He left the chair he’d been sitting in while he watched over her and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand caressing her shoulder.
“Did I tell you about the time my partner drove after an armed robber on foot, and the robber dove over a fence into someone’s backyard?”
She shook her head. She loved how he could lessen her compulsion to shift by telling her tales of his exploits as a police officer first and then as a P.I. But she was afraid the effect wouldn’t last forever, and she feared that the antidote wouldn’t kick in soon enough.
“My partner didn’t apply the brakes in time. The fence was hiding not only the robber but also an attractive nuisance.”
“A swimming pool,” she guessed, smiling.
“Yep. I was in foot pursuit. Instead of trying to catch the robber, I ended up having to rescue my partner from the swimming pool as his car plummeted into the heated water.”
Carol smiled. Ryan gave her an elusive smile back and kissed her forehead.
“Did the robber get away?”
“He was so stunned that he was still gawking at the rescue as I pulled my partner free. By the time the robber thought to make a hasty retreat, I’d tackled him. He ended up in handcuffs—and soaking wet, too.”
She chuckled, loving to hear about her mate’s past and growing closer to him every day. She hoped and prayed and wished she’d be back to normal soon. Then he’d take her home—to his home, his pack, and his family. She hated leaving her job behind. Yet until she could get her shifting under control, she doubted she could handle work.
The urge to shift gone, she tugged down her T-shirt, and Ryan covered her back up with the blanket.
“Sleep, my Florence Nightingale.” He ran the back of his hand across her cheek in a gentle caress. “Sleep, and we’ll talk later.”
When she woke again, she felt much better, not having coughed all night long. Her throat was no longer scratchy, and her energy was back, but Ryan wasn’t in the bedroom. Was he bringing her lunch or dinner or breakfast, depending on the hour?
For once, she felt famished. What was the hour? She glanced at the clock. One in the afternoon. She closed her eyes, uncertain what day it was. Had the phase of the new moon begun? Would the lupus garous be back to normal?
Carol crawled out of bed, stared at her translucent nightgown, and wondered when she’d put that on. She pulled it off, dumped it on the bed, and took a long, hot shower, while speculating how everyone else was faring. Had the vaccine worked and kept the last of their kind from falling prey to the bioengineered virus? Had the cure taken effect for everyone? Were Doc Mitchell and Jake back to their normal selves? Time to rejoin the world and find out what was going on.
She towel dried herself, wrapped the towel around her hair, walked out of the bathroom—and froze.
Ryan stood in the room with a bouquet of cheery pink roses in one hand and her cat cradled in his other arm. Almost smiling, Puss looked like he had a new pal.
Her heart did a little flip. Ryan had brought her flowers. She didn’t realize how much that would mean to her. But it meant the world.
And Puss. She wanted to take him in her arms and squeeze him tightly.
Ryan smiled brightly at Carol. “I like what you’ve done with your hair, and”—he waved the flowers at her nude body—“the rest of you.”
She’d forgotten all about that. Knowing just what he had in mind, she chuckled. “If you think I’m returning to bed after I’ve been in it for days now, you’ve got another think coming.”
Part of her wanted him to change her mind, but the more sensible side of her said it was time to get to work doing something other than going back to bed. She stalked toward the dresser, hoping she had some clothes in it, but Ryan caught her with his free arm and pulled her tight against his body. The tea-scented, velvet rose petals tickled as they brushed her shoulder, and Puss licked her arm in greeting with his sandpaper tongue.
“While you were in the shower, I changed the sheets. Just in case.”
He was a dream come true. And how could she deny she wanted to make love with him again? The day could wait. She snuggled against Ryan, and reached up and stroked Puss’s head. His motor instantly began to rumble.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Yep. Because of all the strain you’ve been under, you’ve taken the longest to recover.”
“How long?” she asked, frowning.
“Nearly two weeks. North and his renegade pack members have joined Lelandi’s red pack. If they cause any trouble there, they’ll live to regret it. Becky and Marilee took off once they were well. No one knows where they went and no one cares. A few… well, let’s say more than a few of the bachelor males are pissed I mated you.”
Carol smiled. “Guess it’s good I’m leaving then.”
“I have a proposition.”
“Hmm?” Sex came to mind, as it often did. But what he said next surprised her.
“I’ve contracted with a lupus garou doctor to open a clinic in Green Valley. He said he’d try it out and make sure it was the kind of place he’d want to raise a family. He wanted to talk to you about being his nurse. Doc Weber had already told him what an asset you were.
“Until you’ve been a werewolf for a year or two and can really get your shape-shifting under control, a clinic run solely by werewolf types would be the best solution. Patients would be strictly werewolves, and our pack will welcome having their own clinic for lupus garou-related problems. One of the clerks at the hospital is in my pack, and she’d be thrilled to work for you as your receptionist and billing clerk.”
“But…”
He frowned a little. “We really need a medical team that can take care of werewolf patients. You could even further your training to become a physician’s assistant, if you wanted. Or a doctor even.”
She thought it was a wonderful idea, but she still thought he wanted something more… intimate. “Here I thought you were going to proposition me for something else.”
He grinned and leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Hmm, what had you in mind?”
“Where’s your plaid?”
“Next time, I promise.” He slipped the bouquet of flowers into a vase of fresh water and then set Puss down on a soft cushion on top of a chair. Her cat immediately jumped down, wound his way around Carol’s legs and then Ryan’s, and then ran across the floor and curled up in a window seat.
Ryan snorted. “He has a mind of his own.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to show him who’s boss.” She began unbuttoning Ryan’s shirt, slowly, provocatively.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that in the family—that means between you and Rosalind, and now the cat and me—I’ll have a difficult time being in charge.”
She laughed and pulled his shirt free from his pants. “That’s as it should be, my Highland hero.”
“Hmm, you saved me from a mad scientist, remember?”
“Well, we’re even then,” she said, unbuckling his belt as he caressed her naked breasts in a loving way. “You saved me from a fishnet.”
He chuckled. “I’m going to have to teach you to swim. Have I told you I love you today?” He kissed her nose, pulled off her towel turban and dropped it over the back of a chair.
“Before you made love to me, while you were making love to me, and after you made love to me sometime in the middle of the night. Yes, you did.”
“Good. I can’t say it enough.” His thumbs chafed her nipples, as she took hold of his arm and pulled him toward the bed.
She caressed his chest. “Ah, Ryan, I don’t know anything about being a pack leader’s mate.”
“You couldn’t be more perfect.”
She snorted in a feminine way. “Right. I don’t know how to howl, I can’t swim, and—”
He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue stroking hers— hot, hard, and urgent, his hands making her breasts swollen and tingly, that she forgot what she was about to say. All she knew was they were perfect for each other. She would learn how to control her shape-shifting somehow, how to raise a couple of were-kids, and how to lead a pack with Ryan at her side. One thing she didn’t have to learn was how to love Ryan with all her heart.
Ryan could lose himself in Carol’s sweet body, her willing mouth softening under his kisses, her nipples rosy and peaked and tantalizing, and the way she moved her body against his, arching and touching and pushing for action. He’d thought she might be sore from all their love-making the night before, but she’d been so eager, and he couldn’t get enough of her once she’d felt better again.
He’d really thought to give her a break. Flowers, bringing Puss to her, giving her news about a job. He hadn’t expected to find her fresh from the shower with her skin flushed and her hair done up in a turban. She was gorgeous. And she craved having him. Despite the pretense that she didn’t want to return to bed. By the way she sounded so hopeful that he’d want her back in bed—and when would he not desire that?—he knew she was ready for more loving.
He loved her insecurities and strengths, the way she accepted him for all his foibles, and the way she loved him back. He now knew why he’d been obsessing about her for the past six months. He’d found the woman he couldn’t live without, and he’d been fortunate that she’d wanted him with the same obsessive compulsion, no matter what reservations she might have had.
Carol caressed his back, her silky touch stealing his thoughts, her eyes blue pools of desire that called him like a siren’s seductive song. Nothing else mattered but pleasuring his mate before he took her home to his pack, his people, his life.
His Little Miss Nightingale was the stuff of legends, the soothing balm that stirred his soul. Together, forever, they would solve life’s little mysteries and make their dreams come true.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank Deb Werksman, my editor, and the rest of the Sourcebooks staff who put out the best books ever, from editing to book covers and every step in between. And Danielle Jackson, my publicist, who helps me to get the word out on whirlwind book tours and keeps me on track! And to my Rebel Romance critique partners—Tammy, Judy, Vonda, Randy, Carol, Pam, and Betty—who are with me every step of the way, either through critiques or just being there for me when I need them. To my coworkers at the library who humor all my wolf-sense. And to my fans who share with me their love of worlds that aren’t exactly normal!
About the Author
The award-winning author of urban fantasy and medieval historical romantic suspense, Terry Spear also writes true stories for adult and young adult audiences and loves all things Celtic because of her Scottish and Irish ancestry where true love flowered in the Highlands and in Ireland. She’s a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves and has an MBA from Monmouth University.
She also creates award-winning teddy bears, Wilde & Woolly Bears, including personalized bears designed to commemorate authors’ books. When she’s not writing or making bears, she’s teaching online writing courses.
Originally from California, she’s lived in eight states and now resides in the heart of Texas. She is the author of Heart of the Wolf, Destiny of the Wolf, To Tempt the Wolf, Legend of the White Wolf, Seduced by the Wolf, Winning the Highlander’s Heart, The Accidental Highland Hero, Deadly Liaisons, The Vampire… In My Dreams (young adult), and numerous articles and short stories for magazines.
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Terry Spear, Wolf Fever hotw-6
