Chapter
Twenty-three
Her voice was strangled and raw—not to mention
annoyed—but it sounded terrific to him. Carefully he pushed her
dripping blond hair away from her face, brushed the water from
around her wide green eyes. “Jesus, doc, you scared the hell out of
me. The next time you want to go diving for pearls, take some
equipment.”
“I . . . I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t
get out of the water, something was holding me under.” She tried to
push him away but started coughing again. When she regained her
breath, she simply sagged against him, exhausted.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her.
He was as wet as she was, but he could at least share his naturally
high body heat. “You were underneath the truck, doc. The water’s up
to the running boards, and you must have kept trying to come up
under the chassis.” Christ, she must have been terrified. It had
certainly terrified him. In wolfen form he’d
raced full out, crossing the miles as the crow flies, utilizing all
the speed a Changeling was capable of—and then some. Not knowing
what was wrong, only that there was danger and he must hurry. The compulsion whipped him mercilessly, drove him
to a near-impossible pace until his heart was ready to burst. Just
as it was the night he’d raced to Evelyn’s side. Past and present
had blurred in James’s mind as he ran. Fear that he might be too
late had clamped icy jaws around his throat, making it harder to
breathe even as his lungs burned for air.
Fortunately, the connection the wolf
had with Jillian had led him straight to her. James had caught her
scent as he crested the hill, followed the wide swath of freshly
broken brush leading down the ditch and into the creek. He spotted
the truck when he was halfway down the slope, was relieved to see
Jillian open the door. Then relief turned to horror as she stepped
out into the water and slipped beneath it. He Changed as he leapt
into the creek, splashed and skidded on his hands and knees in the
dark icy water, while he felt around frantically for something,
anything, he could grab.
With a start, James realized he was
shaking almost as much as Jillian. He pulled her even closer,
tucked her head under his chin and simply held on. Grateful he was
sitting down, grateful to have her gathered in his lap and wrapped
tight against him. Safe. He drew her scent into his lungs, again
and again, each time holding it there, close to his heart. He
listened to her breathing, listened to her heart beating, the
rhythms of life, her life. He rubbed his
cheek over her wet hair as powerful emotions shook him to the core.
Dear God, he had been in time. He had been in
time.
James radiated his Changeling body heat
to warm her as much as he could. Finally, when their shaking had
subsided and both of them were steadier, he relaxed his hold on
her, but not before he brushed his lips over her brow, her head.
The sudden taste and tang of blood jolted him, reminded him that
Jillian might be alive but she needed more than affection to stay
that way. “Keep this on, okay?” His jacket was wet but he wrapped
it snugly around her just the same. At least it had some residual
warmth in it, and it would keep the breeze off her until he found
something drier. “I’ll be right back.”
He waded out to the truck. A check of
the ignition revealed that the battery was dead. So was the radio.
There was a cell phone on the floor but it was in pieces. James
took a quick look around the cab for anything else useful, then
made his way to the back of the truck. Here he had more luck. The
canopy had kept the cargo dry, and he had no trouble finding
matches and supplies, for which he blessed his brother’s name.
There was no shortage of blankets and clothing either, the
preparations of a vet who had made too many farm calls in bad
weather.
There was dead willow along the bank
and James worked fast to gather an armful and coax a fire into
life. The flames gobbled the twigs and dried grass greedily, moved
on to the larger bits of wood without a pause. He set a duffel bag
on the ground beside Jillian and knelt to study her in the
firelight. The orange glow should have lent color to her face but
she was paper-white. Trickles of blood had emerged from her
hairline, merged into a single rivulet that ran steadily down the
side of her face. Her green eyes were wide, too wide, the pupils
dilated even though she was looking straight at the flames. Not
good, not good at all, he thought. “Take your clothes
off.”
“What?” She looked
startled.
James opened the bag and rifled through
it. “You’ve got to get out of those wet things right
now.”
“What for? Why can’t you just take me
home?”
“I don’t have a vehicle with me,
Jillian.” Please, God, don’t let her ask any
questions. I can’t exactly say I ran here. He rushed on before she could say anything. “Your
truck is out of commission, and we’re a hell of a long way from
town. The radio’s out. I don’t have a cell phone, and yours is
broken. We could be here a while, so you need to be warm and dry.
Step one is to take off those wet clothes.”
As she opened her mouth to protest,
James simply picked her up and placed her on her feet. Steadied
her. “You don’t get a choice here, Jillian. You’re not thinking
straight. Hypothermia is dangerous, and I’m betting you’ve got a
concussion as well.”
He had removed his jacket from her
shoulders, taken off her jacket and was starting on her shirt when
her temper flared and she backed up a step, fists
clenched.
“Don’t touch me.” Jillian flung the
words at him like stones. “Just don’t. I don’t know what kind of
privileges you think you have, but undressing me isn’t one of
them.”
That momentary flicker in her eyes,
anger mixed with something very like humiliation, cut him to the
core. Guilt roughened his voice. “This isn’t the time, Jillian. You
want to go a few rounds with me, fine, you can have all the free
swings you want later. Right now we need to take care of
you.”
“I can take care of myself just fine,
thank you.”
He didn’t want to fight with her. He
raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, praying he wasn’t
making a mistake. “Suit yourself. But if you’re not peeled out of
those soggy clothes in five minutes, I’ll do it whether you want me
to or not.” He meant it. Her eyes flashed but her anger was a
bonus—it would keep her adrenaline up, and God knew she needed it.
“You’ve almost died once tonight, doc, and I’m not about to let you
try for twice.” He yanked out a big flannel shirt, some jeans, and
a wool blanket, and placed them on top of the bag for her. He
pulled out an outfit for himself and stalked to the other side of
the fire, keeping his back turned to give her some privacy.
Besides, if he didn’t look at her, maybe he could concentrate. He
had to keep trying to contact Connor or some other member of the
Pack. It was a long shot, literally, to succeed at mind speech over
such a distance. But there was little traffic on this road, even
less at this time of night, and it was miles to the nearest farm to
get help. True, he could Change again and cover the distance on
four feet, but he would have to leave Jillian alone—and that he
didn’t dare do.
Suddenly he felt a connection. It was
odd—as if his mental call were a fish and someone was reeling it
in. That someone couldn’t be a Changeling, the energy was
different. Birkie!