At any other point I would've laughed, but all I can think of is that I actually might not have the strength in my arms and legs to hang onto him. I opened my mouth to apologize, and then shut it again. Sometimes, I was really tired of saying sorry about stuff that wasn’t my fault. I shouldn't beat myself up over collapsing. “I'll do the best I can,” I said. “But I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hang on, either. Also, friendly warning—I’m heavier than I look.”
“If I can carry an injured male shifter for hours, I think I can handle you. And if you can’t hold on any longer, we’ll tackle that hurdle once we get there.” He knelt in front of me and I clambered onto his wide strong back, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through me as my frozen face pressed against his warm neck and my legs locked around that hard, muscular torso. He did a little jump to adjust my weight, and then started a jog that was faster than the one I’d been trying to maintain for the past few hours. Damn, this man—shifter—was in serious shape.
“Work out much?”
He laughed, not even sounding out of breath. “You never know when you'll have to carry a woman several miles through the woods.”
The words slipped up before I could stop them. “You carry a lot of them around?”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, “Only you.”
I didn't know how to handle that response, and I didn't know how to handle the fact that I needed to hear it, so I buried my face in his neck, inhaling the delicious smell of sweaty hard work and the unique woodsy scent of him, and let my mind drift as he moved swiftly and silently through the woods with unerring precision. My questions and fears still hovered in my brain, but my gut told me I was as safe as I could possibly be in this moment. Exhaustion had driven all intense emotions to the fringe and I welcomed the respite from the chaos, even if it was only for a little bit.
Slowly, the snowy woods faded away into darkness. I dreamed of my father. I dreamed about being a little girl, of adults I didn’t recognize towering over me. Of being a wolf, running free through the woods. Then being a wolf and being hunted by something that wanted me dead. I ran until I was at a cliff and I slipped over the edge and was falling, my hands unable to grab at anything, and then I was being cradled with such exquisite care that I hoped I’d never, ever have to wake up.
When I did, it was because something had tilted my world at a strange angle. I opened my eyes and realized that Wyatt was holding me against him with one arm while he was stabbing in the code to the front door of what had to be the getaway cabin with his free hand. His tanned skin looked paler than usual, and there were clear circles of exhaustion underneath his eyes.
He must have sensed me waking up because he looked down at me, his gaze like a caress. “Almost in, hang in there. The second I make sure this place is safe I'll get some food in you and then we can both catch up on the sleep we so desperately need.”
Given that the poor guy had carried me for who knows how long, I probably should have insisted on standing, but my legs still felt like rubber and I enjoyed the feeling of his body against mine a little too much. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before he went sideways through the front door, ensuring that not a single part of me bumped into the doorframe, and gently set me on the nearest living room sofa. “I'm going to go explore this place, but if something happens you yell and I'll be here in a heartbeat. The gun and the cell phone are in your coat pockets.”
He closed the front door while I lay on the sofa, comatose enough to not want to move for a few years, awake enough that I admired how his damp pants molded to an ass that looked just as toned and taut as the rest of his body was. He turned the security system on, then quickly checked every single door, window, and room, the satisfied look on his face telling me that not only was this place safe, but it was well-stocked.
“It won't be too gourmet, but there's enough food in the kitchen to tide us over for a few weeks, even though we’ll only have to lay low here for a day or two.”
“If you told me to eat a sofa cushion, I'd probably do it.” It was a beautiful sofa, made of impeccable soft, pliant black leather, and I winced as I saw the water and dirt dripping onto it. “I'm making a mess of this beautiful house.”
“Trust me, the owner doesn't give a shit.” He walked back through another doorway, motioning to me. “This is the master bedroom. Let's get some food in you and then you can pass out here. There's a walk-in closet that should have something for both of us, and a gorgeous bathroom.”
“The shower sounds like a good idea,” I admitted. I couldn’t wait to get into the closet either—the clothing I was wearing had been on my panicking, sprinting body for over a day now, and smelled about as fresh as one might imagine they would. Oh shit, had I smelled bad to Wyatt? Had I just laid in his arms for hours reeking of body odor? Ugh.
“Once you get some food in you, you should definitely check out the steam room.”
That jerked my thoughts back to reality. “I could go for that now, to be quite honest. I feel like someone ran a steamroller over me.”
“Can you even stand up without falling back down?” he asked. Anyone else saying it would've sounded like a controlling snob, but given that his arms must be ready to fall off and I had yet to move more than a few inches on this couch, I couldn't blame him for wondering. “The last thing I need is for you to pass out in there from exhaustion without me knowing.”
“You could join me…” I trailed off when I realized what I’d just said. And how low and inviting my voice had sounded.
Me. Him. In a steam room. My brain shot off at full speed. Probably naked, that ridiculously lean, toned body of his pressing me into the wall. Or maybe pinning me down, or positioning me astride him. Sweat-slicked bodies sliding up and down, in and out, melding into one another…
Fuuuck.
This time, he broke the tension. “Shower now and I’ll make dinner,” was all he said before he spun around and moved swiftly out of the room. Not so swiftly, though, that I couldn’t get a glimpse at how my thoughtless offer affected him physically. Damn. Wolfboy was packing it.
Except now I’d massively mortified myself, sounded like a perv, and somehow had to get to the closet and then the shower without resorting to crawling.
The first step almost sent me to my knees. The second was easier. Then a third. I wobbled into the master bedroom and paused to soak in the luxurious details. A huge four-poster bed, gorgeous swirls and curves carved into the posts. Pale gray sheets looked silky, clean, and in need of getting rumpled. There were several huge sets of drawers, one window, and two other doors, both open to reveal the closet and bathroom.
My hunger and exhaustion temporarily took a backseat as I quickly grabbed some things from the walk-in closet (but holy shit, was that a whole row of designer cocktail dresses on one side?) and headed into the bathroom. My motions were frenzied as I tore off my dirty rumpled clothing and sent them flying into the corner. Should I just burn them? They looked like dishrags at this point. And there was that whole closet of clothes I’d never ever get to wear otherwise…
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and tried to not screech in horror. My hair looked like it could support at least three bird families. My face was red and chapped, with angry scratches all over it. It seemed unfair that I went through hell for the past twenty-four hours and looked it, while he sprinted through the woods carrying me and the backpack for who knows how long, and still managed to resemble a men's underwear commercial.
Men. Disgusting no matter what.