Page 1 of Jacob Michaels is Trouble

Putting myself in front of Lucas to protect him, I threw an arm over my eyes to shield them from the blinding light. Lucas didn’t exactly cower behind me, but his body seemed to shrink in on itself as I shielded him. Of course, having just been bitten by a werewolf, and having what seemed to be a spotlight shining in our eyes, it was understandable that he wasn’t at his best. Certainly, I wasn’t going to think less of him for needing a moment to collect himself before we faced something else. One more person present for me to also use as a shield for myself would have been nice, though.

The water was freezing, though I couldn’t spare worry on the iciness of the Maumee when my main concern was that we were bathed in light. We were in the icy water with two burnt-to-a-crisp dead bodies floating nearby. If there was ever a visual representation of “cluster fuck,” our situation would have nailed it. I felt Lucas’ hand on my side, gripping onto me for reassurance and strength as we stood there bathed in that harsh light. Unfortunately for Lucas, all I knew I was good for was being a shield. What to say or do completely eluded me.

“Fire fingers” was my next thought.

“What’s going on?” I heard a voice shout from the shore again.

A very familiar voice.

“Who’s there?” My voice was shaky as my arm dropped marginally so that I could glance into the beam of light. “Who are you?”

Abruptly, the beam of light lessened in strength and I could finally see that a mere high-powered flashlight of some kind was what had produced the spotlight. After a few moments of staring out beyond the less bright beam of light, I could see the shape of the shadowy figure that held it on us. Lucas’ fingers clenched at my side again as I slowly lowered my arm. The outline of the person on the shore came into focus as I lowered my arm to my side, but stayed at alert in case more fire was needed.

I was in the mood for more fire.

My mind was crazed with the thought.

“What in the…”

“Rob.” Lucas whispered into my ear. “Is that…”

My eyes turned to slits as the figure behind the flashlight became discernible. Jason, werewolf pack leader extraordinaire, stood on the shore of the Maumee, shining the flashlight in our direction, illuminating us as we stood prone in the icy water. One of us was bleeding and shirtless, one of us probably looked deranged with anger and power, and surely, he had spotted the two bodies floating nearby. Two choices came to mind. Lucas’ fingers clenching my side, warning me, kept me from being impulsive. I didn’t immediately raise my hand and aim it at Jason, though the compulsion was at the forefront of my mind.

“Jason.” The word carried heat as it left my lips, but it was a struggle not to shiver as I stood there in the icy water with Lucas.

“Who are those people?” Jason’s eyes were wide, nearly horrified as he took in the scene before him.

Unsurprisingly, a thought seemed to come to Jason as he stood on the shore, holding us within the beam of his flashlight. That confused and horrified look slowly started to change, the corners of his mouth slowly turning upward until he looked like the Grinch. When his eyes landed on mine, practically staring into my soul as Lucas stood behind me, I knew we were fucked. Jason had found us in the most compromising of positions, and only one thing would get us out of it. I started to raise my hand.

“Rob.” Lucas whisper-hissed, his fingers clutching at my wrist. “Don’t.”

“Seems you boys have been up to no good.” Jason grinned evilly, his eyes practically twinkling in the dark. “No good at all.”

Glancing angrily down at the fingers clenched around my wrist, it was all I could do to keep myself from screaming obscenities at Jason or yanking my arm free to send a column of fire in his direction. Lucas’ fingers squeezed my wrist firmly, yet lovingly, trying to keep me from doing something that might make our situation even worse. Of course, when I thought about it, burning Jason to a crisp would solve the third problem. Problem number one and number two were slowly starting to float towards shore. Keeping my eyes on Jason instead of the dead bodies floating toward him was an insane exercise of self-control. Visions of fire and a desire to create more destruction continued to assault my mind, speed my pulse, hurry my breathing. Lucas’ fingers around my wrist were the only things keeping me from going completely around the bend while we stood in the beam of light.

“Why are you here?” I demanded.

Jason gave an amused snort, the beam of light jiggling.

“Is that really what you want to ask me?” Came his reply. “Don’t you think you ought to get out of the freezing-fucking-river before you lose a toe first?”

Considering this for a moment, my first thought was to tell Jason how to apply suction to a particular part of my anatomy—only metaphorically, of course—yet I knew he was right, no matter how much I hated to admit it. Lucas was ashen-faced when I glanced over my shoulder at him. The pain, loss of blood, and cold were doing nothing for the love of my life. In fact, my pride was going to turn into the cause for one of us losing a toe to frostbite. Lucas’ teeth were chattering when I glanced over my shoulder at him, so I had nothing else to do but swallow down my rage and take a shaky step towards the shore.

Lucas’ hand slid down my wrist so that his fingers could slide between mine, holding onto me like a life raft as we headed towards shore. Jason lowered the flashlight to point at the water so that it wasn’t in our eyes any longer, and we quickly made our way out of the water. Both of the dead, original recipe men were beached by the gentle waves caused by the early Spring breeze, but we avoided them, averting our eyes from my handiwork. Or, my craftiness, I guess.

Jason grinned evilly and started to speak, but I silenced him with a glare, though the grin didn’t disappear. Doing my best to ignore the smug asshole standing next to us on the shore, I knelt next to Lucas and grabbed his socks. His hands went to my shoulders to steady himself as I struggled to get his socks on over his cold, wet feet. Once Lucas’ feet were covered up, I quickly pulled my socks and shoes on, glaring over at Jason as I worked. Then I was back on my feet and pulling Lucas into me, though holding my boyfriend against my wet, cold body was doing nothing to help bring his body temperature back up.

“You two are morons,” Jason stated, the flashlight dangling from at side, casting the ground next to him in a halo of yellow. “You’re both freezing. Wet. He’s bleeding all over you. Neither of you has made a move to get out of here and go back to your car. And your two murder victims are right. fucking. there.”

“Rob was defending us.” Lucas’ teeth chattered as I held him to me.

That statement gave me pause. Lucas was right, that I had been defending us and not just wantonly setting men…werewolves on fire…just for the hell of it. However…Rob. Rob did it. He didn’t include himself in the reason for the men’s deaths. Shaking my head to chase that thought away, I turned my attention to Lucas’ bite, which was still seeping blood. The seeping had slowed considerably, probably from how cold his body was, but it had not completely abated. I pressed a hand against Lucas’ chest where the teeth of the werewolf had entered, then attempted to press against the ones on his back with my other hand.

How to treat a bite wound from a werewolf was not exactly part of my repertoire, but I knew that putting pressure on a bleeding wound was usually the best thing to do. Lucas grunted and winced slightly as I pushed against both sides of the wound, hoping that the bleeding would stop on its own. Causing Lucas further pain was not optimal, but of course, he had no idea how to treat a werewolf bite either, so he wasn’t offering alternatives. The fact that an actual, live werewolf was standing next to us flooded my mind.

“What do we do?” I half growled, half pleaded with Jason, though my eyes stayed on my hands covering Lucas’ wounds.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Jason was rolling his eyes—I knew it without looking at him. “He got bit. He’s gonna turn, dumbass.”