“Thank you.” But his eyes were already turning feral, glowing green-gold.
She nodded once and backed away. The magic built in the air around them, rippled through her, then he changed. Unlike her own shift, it wasn’t immediate. Instead, sable fur sprouted from his skin, claws from his fingertips. His bones elongated and snapped, his back arched, and he was gone. A huge black-furred wolf lay on her bedroom floor.
She reached out a hand, and he licked her palm then rested his head on the tiled floor, closed his eyes, and slept.
Chapter Four
He was back in human form when he awoke. Carl stretched; his body felt good, strong, and fully recovered, though it had taken time. Inside he could feel the faint hum of magic, which told him tonight the moon would be full. He must have slept for two days.
His stomach rumbled—another sign he’d been out for a while.
But he was alive, and he’d thought for a while that this time it was over.
Shera had saved him. He had no doubt about that. He had a vague memory of a huge crimson-eyed hound-like creature hurling itself into the mass of demons attacking him. He’d heard of hellhound shifters; it was a phenomenon that struck seemingly at random. Hell, he’d met one once—seriously scary, and one more thing Ash hadn’t revealed about Shera.
But even in hellhound form, no way could she fight off that many demons. They should both be dead.
She had come back to help him, knowing it meant almost certain death.
He owed her his life.
Shit, that complicated things.
But he’d never meant her any harm, just to take her back. She was obviously not safe out here alone. She had no clue how to survive. Except she’d managed before he turned up, and then she had somehow also managed to save them both.
Maybe it was time to call Ash again, see what else the bastard wasn’t telling him, and find out whether there was any way to get past the power of the sigil and give Shera her freedom.
His thoughts were interrupted by the slam of a door. He sat up, looking around for his clothes but then caught the sharp, sweet smell of cat shifter, and relaxed. She’d kept him safe while he healed. She could have run while he was unconscious, but instead she had stayed.
She opened the door and came to an abrupt halt. “You’re awake.”
“I am.”
She chewed on her lower lip and shifted from foot to foot, then started to back away.
“Wait,” he said.
She was dressed in a short cotton shift dress in yellow and orange, her skin was tanned to a pale gold, and her green eyes gleamed. She’d tied her hair up on top of her head, leaving her slender neck bare. She was all long limbs, probably the tallest woman he knew, maybe five eleven. Her feet were bare and her toes curled in to the tiled floor.
“Is there anything to eat?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ll get you something. After that, I’m leaving.” Her eyes hardened. “You owe me. Just let me go. What’s it to anyone if I don’t go back?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know why they sent you after me.”
Er…demon gold, sigil, hellhound, alcohol….
Carl wasn’t sure which, if any, of the reasons to tell her, and while he was deciding, she whirled around and left the room, leaving him staring at the open door and still trying to work out what to say to her.
She’d been brought up virtually a slave in a land of demons; he could understand why she didn’t want to go back. A shudder ran through him. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being bound to someone, let alone a demon. But maybe there was a way around the sigil.
But whatever happened, he certainly couldn’t allow her to go with her pockets filled with demon gold. Could that be what those demons had been after that night? Had they traced her as he had and planned to take the gold for themselves? But if that was the case, why hadn’t they followed through.
It was doing his head in.
But first thing, just in case everything went to crap and she vanished—he had to warn her about the gold. Because he was 100 percent sure she didn’t know what she’d done.
He was naked except for a white cotton sheet. He tucked it around himself as she came back, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. She put them both down on the table by the bed.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” she said.
“Shera, sit with me a minute.” He patted the edge of the bed, and she eyed him warily. “Please,” he coaxed. “There are things you need to know.”
Something flashed in her eyes, maybe curiosity, but she stepped closer and perched on the edge of the mattress. Carl reached out and took her hand in his, just in case she decided to bolt—and because he wanted to hold her hand. It was a beautiful hand, with long graceful fingers and short nails. He glanced at her face and found her staring at the point of contact as though no one had ever held her hand before.
“First—thank you. You saved my life.”
“I almost didn’t. I was so close to running.”