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Blood spilled as soon as Ava clamped down, biting deep and without mercy. Near wild with her panic, she’d let her instincts rule and her animal had automatically assumed control.
The man wasn’t dissuaded: even with one forearm locked between an unforgiving set of teeth, the other reached across her unprotected belly with a knife. Ava froze against what she could only assume would be her death.
The instant the minty scent registered to her senses, she knew the identity of the mystery man: Remmus. And his forearm was currently locked between her jaws.
Horrified, she didn’t even register when the knife he held released her hind leg, nor when he gently lifted her in his arms and cradled her against his chest. When she finally got a good look at his face, she saw only concern. That was when her jaw finally released, and his blood dripped over her downy grey coat.
“Are you okay?”
Ava could only cock her head at him. Oddly, she felt comfortable in his arms. In fact, being held by him—wolf form or not—had calmed her racing heart. Shifting her gently against his chest, Remmus surveyed their surroundings.
“That’s it, Blondie. No more dangerous perimeter runs for you. You were injured on my watch and I’m not keen on letting you put yourself on the line again.” He grimaced. “It’s no longer safe for us to be here. We’re heading back to your den.”
The teleport took only seconds, but when Remmus landed, he jolted forward an inch as though he’d stumbled. Must be the blood loss, Ava thought contritely as he whispered an apology. This was the second time she’d attacked him in as many days.
The Raeth had taken them directly to the den’s healer and was already calling out for assistance.
“We need help. Ava’s been injured.”
So was Remmus, she thought. Strangely, he wasn’t asking for help, his only concern for her while he was bleeding all over her coat.
Healers swarmed them in a bustle of activity, exclaiming outrage at the silver-burned wound on her limb. They instantly extracted her from the Raeth’s grip, not noticing that his blood marred her coat.
He said nothing for his own comfort. Martyr.
By the time they had purged any trace of silver from her skin, the Raeth was nowhere to be found. Riaz had come and gone, mockingly chastising her for getting hurt, and then enveloping her in a big hug while she promised never to be injured again.
A yearning to apologize to the Raeth had been eating away at her. She might even feel moved to use his name.
He’d freed her from a dangerous predicament while she made him her own personal chew toy, and then been kind and protective while he was still bleeding.
Huffing a sigh, Ava kicked off the healer’s table. She followed her nose, scenting the minty trail and wandering toward Remmus’ quarters. While she couldn’t guarantee he’d be there, he’d hightailed it out of the infirmary rather quickly for a man who’d been savaged by a werewolf.
As she neared the door, a pit grew in her stomach. What would she say? Sorry for thinking you were an assassin sent to murder me. Sorry that I nearly tore off your arm back there; I get bitey when I’m tangled in silver tripwire. My apologies for attacking you again; I have a deep, visceral hatred of Raeths.
Strangely, none of those options screamed ‘forgive me.’
Her knuckles rapped on wood seconds later, and when he came to the door, Ava straightened. Remmus’ dark blond hair was loose from its manbun, framing his exceptionally handsome features. His general demeanor screamed harried and leery, negating any coziness from the casual look.
“Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Ava scoffed. “You’re the one who got an armful of teeth.”
The casual shrug he offered seemed too tense. “No harm done.” He held up his arm, though several spots on the outside of his tattoo now looked to be lacking ink. “Your leg all better, Blondie?”
“Never better.”
Something was off about the Raeth, and she was instantly suspicious. She pushed past him into his borrowed room. He went rigid, sucking in a breath that screamed that he was hiding something.
It took less than three seconds to find its cause: the bloodied blade on the table.
Rounding on him, Ava jeered, “You managed to slice yourself open in less than twenty minutes?”
“I was cleaning it.”
“And you spilled your own blood?”
The smile that bloomed on his lips was self-deprecating. “Guess I’d make a poor janitor.”
