Wolf Fever

Page 24

Once they discovered she was missing, it would be too late.
She would have fought her kidnappers’ confinement, if she could have oriented herself in this new world. But all she saw was blackness, no wolf’s vision here. And all she felt was numbness spreading through every inch of her body. Huffing and puffing and grunting, not her own, filled her ears.
A jolt to her body and an abrupt change from cool air to frigid air startled her. Her wet, soapy body grew goose bumps as a chilly breeze whipped across her sticky, water-soaked hair, still coated in shampoo, and her naked skin. The biting cold encased her as silky red hair floated over her face. Her eyes filled with tears and soap, she briefly saw a blurry image of amber eyes narrowed as they looked down at her—a concerned-looking man with the start of a scraggily beard. Then she succumbed to a tiredness from which she couldn’t free herself. Vaguely, it was as if she was seeing the vision she’d witnessed in Ryan’s truck outside the tavern all over again. Only the cold was too real.
She floated, was jostled, and heard the crunching of footsteps in the dark and the heavy breathing and hard-charging heartbeats that revealed her kidnappers’ panic. One of the men held her tight against his body, his chest covered in a padded vest that made him feel cuddly, not hard and strong. Clothed in flannel, his arms also felt soft.
She wanted to bury herself deeply in every part of him that felt warm wherever he touched her. His warmth helped to heat her body, but she felt as limp as a chilled, soaked noodle. She tried to open her eyes to get a better look at the man, but they stung from the soap and she barely opened them. Her eyes were too blurry with tears for her to see anything. Her head felt empty and floated separately from her body.
Then it hit her—although she wasn’t sure whether it was a vision of something to come or a nightmare, or a little of both. She couldn’t tell as her mind slipped into another reality induced by the drug.
Jake paced in his wolf form through the great room after a jaunt in the night with several others. Only he hadn’t changed back. None of them had changed back. Carol watched helplessly. Lelandi’s green eyes pleaded with her to do something. Anything. But what could Carol do? Just warn their kind not to shift. And look at how well that had worked! Damn it!
Then the world faded into something else. A room she’d never seen before came into view. A big-screen TV clung to the wall. And the walls: the upper half-sunny and lighted with fan-shaped brass sconces to give the illusion of light, and the lower half covered in light oak paneling. The room had no windows. No windows, as if buried in the bowels of the earth.
Rich brown leather sofas and a light brown rug added to the earthy tones. A man’s room, she thought. But something wasn’t right. Bright lights from another room intruded on the soft lighting in this one. With the greatest apprehension, she moved without moving toward the doorway bathed in brilliant white.
Someone was in there. Shadows crossed the doorway briefly as someone moved about, blocking the light marginally. She had to see into the room. Had to see who the someone was.
Two shots rang out.
“Hey!” From a great distance, Sam shattered the future world Carol was in. Instantly her thoughts became her own again, except that she couldn’t remember what had happened, where she was, or what she was doing. Shots had been fired. Hadn’t they?
The cold shook her from the fogginess—the shower, the soap, the kidnappers! She opened her mouth to speak, to call out, to get Sam’s attention.
Shots rang out. Shots fired from close by. From the kidnappers. At Sam.
The acrid smell of gun smoke drifted to her.
Her mouth snapped shut. Silver bullets? She couldn’t be the cause of Sam’s death. Best to let the villains take her away.
“Raise the alarm!” Sam shouted.
The man carrying her swore under his breath and tightened his hold on her, stumbling at a slightly faster pace.
“What the hell’s happening?” Darien asked, growing closer to Sam’s voice.
They were coming for her. The sensation that she was one of the pack gave her some peace of mind, but the danger the gunman posed if Sam and Darien caught up with her was too great to ignore. The bullets would kill Darien and Sam and any others who got too close. They couldn’t risk it. Don’t risk it!
“Three men running that way. They’ve got Carol!” Sam shouted back to him. “And they’ve got guns!”
Another shot rang out and Carol tried to squirm, but not a muscle obeyed her.
“Carol!” Darien shouted.
She tried to speak, to shout, but she had no voice.
Suddenly she felt herself falling, dropped like a sack of cold groceries. She should have felt a hard impact, but her body didn’t feel anything but a slight jolt. Now she was left in the sweet-smelling grass, crispy with frost, to freeze to death. She curled up into a fetal ball, trying to get warm, when a large hand gripped her shoulder and she shuddered. They weren’t leaving her behind after all. At once, she felt an odd mix of reprieve and regret.
“You’re alive,” he said, his voice low and dark but comforting.
Ryan? A sense of overwhelming relief washed over her. And a fuzzy question surfaced. When had he returned from Green Valley? She envisioned him racing to the rescue on a white steed while he wore the McKinley plaid, the kilt reaching his knees, sword belted at his waist, a shirt open to his collarbone, his face frowning as he scooped her up from the cold ground and—
“I’ve got her!” Ryan wrapped her in something warm and soft that smelled of him, his distinctive male scent of fresh soap and heat. Of spices and the wind in the firs, of the wild. Was it his plaid? She imagined him now wearing only the long shirt that reached mid-thigh and sturdy leather boots that met his knees, his expression worried and stern.
“Are you all right?” he asked, lifting her off the cold ground. He jostled her as he ran, his arms so tight around her that she felt he was going to crush her. But the heat and his protectiveness comforted her.
And when they reached the laird’s castle, he was going to kiss her and tell her how much he loved her, how he couldn’t live without her. She would be a member of his clan as they would want her to join them. Despite her being a MacDonald. Did the McKinley clan fight with the MacDonalds? She didn’t know but fervently hoped not.
“Carol, can you focus?” His darkened eyes studied her for a moment as he rushed toward their destination.
She parted her lips, couldn’t get a word out, closed her eyes, and concentrated on him and the way he held her so… so possessively.
He squeezed her tight again and kissed her lips gently, which got her attention. As soon as she opened her eyes, even as blurry as her vision was, she saw his lips curve slightly upward, but his brow was still furrowed in a deep frown.
After what seemed like forever, his feet tromped on wooden steps—when she thought they should have been stone—and then inside. She felt the warmth of the castle keep and smelled the scent of apple pies coming from the kitchen far away.
“Ohmigod… Carol. Is she all right?” Lelandi asked. “What’s happened?”
Lelandi? The Highland romance Carol was living instantly died, and she remembered the pies Lelandi, Silva, and she had made after returning from the tavern and her date with Ryan.
“I think she’s been drugged. She’s not said a word since I found her. She can barely open her eyes, and she is limp and unresponsive.” Ryan rushed through the house.
Carol smelled the scent of the roses on the mantel as they passed them. Felt his legs lift, his thighs bumping her back as he ascended the stairs. What was she wrapped in, if not his plaid?
“Where were you when Sam raised the alarm?” Lelandi’s words were spoken close behind him, her footfalls on the carpeted stairs lighter but just as hurried.
“I was searching the woods out back when I heard gunfire and Sam’s yelling. When I drew too close to her kidnappers, they must have heard me coming and dropped her.”
“Oh, Carol.” Lelandi’s voice was clearly shaken. “Take her to her room. I’ll call Doc.”
Then the hazy world seemed to fade away. Carol was safe and home for the moment with the man of her dreams. And free.
Chapter 12
RYAN HUGGED CAROL TIGHTER AS HER SLIGHTLY TENSE body seemed to lose all strength again. He’d gotten Darien’s approval to stay and guard her, but damn if Darien had said he’d stay in the sunroom, which was too far from Carol’s bedroom to be any help. Although he’d planned to sit in the recliner in her room later that night anyway. If he couldn’t serve as her bodyguard in the way he felt would offer her the right amount of protection, there was no sense in his being here.
If he hadn’t been searching around the grounds outside before he retired for the evening, he’d never have heard the men take off with her on the other side of the rambling two-story house in time. And if he hadn’t nearly reached them to identify them by sight, they wouldn’t have dropped her and left her behind, he was fairly certain. For that, he was grateful.
“Carol, can you hear me? It’s me, Ryan,” he said, his voice soothing, wanting her to know it was him and not one of the men who had taken her hostage.
“Hmm,” she said, stirring a little.
As little as it was, he was still glad to hear her response. “Until Doc gets over here with something to counteract the sedative they used on you, you’re going to feel pretty out of it. Your skin and hair are caked with soap, and Lelandi doesn’t have the strength to wash you in the shower. A bath would take too long to prepare, not the way you’re shivering. I’ll have to wash you in the shower.”
“Hmm.”
He took that as a yes, although they hadn’t any other choice.
When he reached the bathroom, the shower had been turned off, but the room was thick with warm moisture, the mirrors steamed, the scent of sweet peaches still lingering in the air. He lay Carol down on a towel on the tiled floor, but as soon as he released her, she reached her hands slightly up to him.
“I’m right here, Carol,” he coaxed, squeezing her hands, hating to have to leave her unattended for even a second when she didn’t seem to understand what was going on.