Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
LEON
Leon lay there for hours, close to Karl but not exactly in the way he’d have wanted. He hoped the sleep Karl had slipped into was a healing slumber rather than unconsciousness from the wound on his head.
Lying quietly at least gave him time to think and plan. They were too far from the ranch for him to run for help—he couldn’t leave Karl alone and defenseless out here that long. His only option was to look after Karl as best he could and hope his shifter healing did its job.
Shortly after the rain finally stopped, the pup stirred. Leon made sure to keep his hand on its ruff. The last thing he needed was the damn thing that was the cause of all this running away. He was terrified it might decide to shift, leaving him with a small child to wrangle.
He hovered his other hand over Karl’s leg, not quite touching the torn thigh. The blood seemed to have clotted now, but the bruising across Karl’s ribs had deepened to a sick purple.
The pup started nosing at Karl’s arm, and then it attempted a growl, which ended in a high-pitched squeak. Karl had no chance of sleeping through the piercing sound.
“Where’s your nearest cache?” Leon asked, as soon as he opened his eyes. “I figure I’ll get what we need from there. I don’t suppose you keep a spare satellite phone in any of them?”
“Too expensive when they’d likely never be used.
Batteries would be wrecked after one winter.
” Karl’s speech was choppy as he tried to keep his breathing shallow.
“There’s a stash about a mile northeast of here.
You know how they look. It’s where the trees turn to lodgepole pine.
” Even those few words seemed to exhaust him.
“I’m going to need to leave the pup with you,” Leon said. “Can you hold on to it?”
He saw the spasm around Karl’s mouth, drawn tight with pain and also with something more. “Don’t know if I can stay awake,” he said. “Don’t want to hurt it.”
Leon reconsidered. Maybe he could carry it in his mouth in cat form, then shut it in the box of stuff he was going to bring back with him in human form.
But it would slow him down, and he wouldn’t be able to fight if he needed to.
As he was considering the problem, the pup finally stopped nosing at Karl, tucked himself between Karl’s arm and his body, and fell asleep again.
“I think you’ve been adopted,” Leon said. “Reckon it’s exhausted and will sleep the rest of the day.”
Chances were the pup would be happy lying next to Karl. God knew, if the situation were different, Leon would be pleased to do exactly that.
He wasn’t sure if Karl even heard him. His eyes were closed again, and he made no sound.
Leon stood quietly, making sure he didn’t disturb either of them.
He hesitated a second longer. Karl’s face had slackened, unreadable in sleep, and Leon had the sudden, ridiculous urge to touch his shoulder. Just to check he was still there.
He took a couple of steps back and shifted. And then he ran, with everything he had.
* * *
He’d found the cache more easily than he’d expected, the small marks subtly carved into nearby tree trunks helping him to locate it.
Rooting through the storage box, he’d dumped out anything he didn’t think they’d need so he didn’t have to carry it all.
He’d helped himself to clothes and a pair of sneakers in his size, all of which made his return journey more comfortable than he’d feared.
The relief the clothes provided from the chill damp air had underlined how urgently he needed to get Karl warm.
When he set the box down, both the pup and Karl stirred. The pup scrambled upright, hackles raised with shaky bravado, and let out a growl that sounded like a squeaky toy being stepped on.
Karl reached to rub its head. Subsiding, it settled against him once more.
Leon inspected Karl carefully, from head to toe. Relief hit him low in the gut as he saw he’d improved—less pale, and there was no fresh blood visible from his head wound. The leg, though, that was still a mess.
First things first. Before embarking on amateur first-aid hour, he wanted to make sure both Karl and the pup were warm. He laid emergency blankets over the two of them, got some painkillers into Karl, and prepped an MRE, more concerned with warmth than nourishment.
“D’you think it’s old enough to be able to eat?” he asked Karl, drawing back the blanket enough to uncover the pup.
He lifted it by its scruff from its warm nest so that Karl could see it properly, ignoring the pup’s flailing protests as he did so.
It was very small, with ears that still weren’t fully erect, and its paws were comically huge.
Leon had no idea what that meant in age.
Or how age was connected to feeding habits.
“If not, maybe it can have some gravy from the stew.”
Karl looked at the pup being held in front of him, and Leon was relieved to see his eyes were brighter and more alert. “Bits of meat should be fine, so long as you chew them up first,” he said. His lips rose slightly as he saw Leon’s disgust.
That, more than anything, persuaded Leon that the wolf was getting better. Not much longer and he’d be back to his truly objectionable self.
KARL
Everything hurt. His head throbbed as if something was trying to tunnel out through his skull, and every breath came shallow and sharp, like broken glass grating against his ribs.
Karl was no stranger to pain, but he was rarely injured and helpless out in the open, with a pup pressed against his side and a cat acting as nursemaid.
At least it was Leon. He couldn’t decide whether that was good or terrible luck.
Leon’s competence didn’t surprise him. He’d known the jaguar was sharp from the moment they met—observant, quick, too clever by half.
It was everything around the competence that grated.
The arrogance, the constant grooming, the self-assurance.
And the fact that Karl had noticed, in detail, how attractive he was long before the rain and the blanket and the blowjob.
What Karl hadn’t expected was how gently Leon had handled him after his injuries. He hadn’t gloated or delivered any smug one-liners, but had just quietly looked after him. It wasn’t anything Karl would have expected from Leon, and it was unsettling.
The only way in which Leon betrayed his usual self was how he was treating the pup, dangling him at the end of a long arm. Leon was studying him like he might do something unthinkable if he got too close. Like mess up his hair, perhaps.
“He’s not a grenade,” Karl pointed out, and wondered where that rasp in his voice had come from.
Leon raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t argue.
Carefully, he set the pup back down, where he curled against Karl’s side again, a high-pitched whimper escaping as he did so.
Karl laid his hand over the pup, relieved to find he was breathing evenly.
He hoped food would help. He wouldn’t mind some himself—not that the thought of eating felt particularly appealing, but he knew he needed fuel to heal.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Diving into a flooded river for a pup, especially one he hadn’t even known was a shifter… It had been foolish and reckless.
His duty was to the pack. To Matt. Getting himself broken and benched in the middle of nowhere hadn’t helped anyone.
But when he’d seen that little sodden scrap clinging to the log, something in him had cracked. It wasn’t logic or strategy. It was instinct, sharp and undeniable. No more deaths. Not today.
Now all he could do was lie here, aching, damp, and functionally useless while Leon moved around camp doing the things Karl should’ve been doing. His only job now was pup-warmer. And, apparently, patient.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew Leon was crouched beside him again, speaking with quiet urgency but enough edge to jolt Karl awake.
“You okay?” Leon asked as he opened an MRE. “You went out like a light.”
Karl managed a nod, which turned into a wince. His ribs were definitely cracked. Maybe broken.
Leon glanced down at the pup then back at Karl.
“I’m not chewing anything for anyone,” Karl told him.
Leon made a face before grudgingly, and with what might have been a suppressed shudder, he chewed a chunk of meat, then spat it out, and offered it to the pup on the tip of a spoon.
The pup, for his part, sniffed it suspiciously before licking it, then devoured the rest with tiny growls of satisfaction, before looking brightly at Leon, anticipating more.
Leon sighed heavily, but obliged. And Karl had no idea how he could make even regurgitating food look graceful. Must be the cheekbones.
Karl closed his eyes again. He felt... off. Too warm and too fuzzy. A little detached. He realized, belatedly, that Leon must have given him more painkillers than they’d agreed on. Sneaky bastard. Effective, though. He wasn’t in agony any longer. Just floating.
He should fight it. He needed to stay alert, stay sharp. He couldn’t rely on someone else to keep them safe.
But the pup was tucked against him once more, breathing steadily. Leon was there—grumbling, competent, infuriating Leon—and Karl found himself thinking, unexpectedly, this could be worse.
He was still trying to hold on when the darkness pulled him under again.
LEON
Leon poured the last of the purified water over his hands and rubbed them together, trying to scrub away the invisible weight of Karl’s blood.
He was acutely aware that Karl’s life depended on him getting this right.
Help wasn’t coming, not out here. There was just him, a basic first-aid kit, and a wolf who’d flung himself into a river for a stranger.
He wrapped the soiled gloves and the used syringe in one of the ration packets, sealed it, and set it aside. He’d done everything he could for now. Karl hadn’t stirred—his breathing was still fast but steadier than before, which had to be a good sign.