Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
Panic fractures my sleep with a single hit, the pieces falling away as I bolt upright. My eyes stick together and my cheeks burn with the indentation of couch fabric.
“No.” I blink sleep away and sniff, scrubbing tingling hands across my face. “Shit, shit!”
Grayson isn’t here.
His fire is banked, steadily burning, embers eating away at the logs he stacked before disappearing. The lamps are off and a blanket is tacked over the broken window.
How could I have fallen asleep?
A terrible new taste coats my tongue. Thin rays of watery light cut through the panes of the remaining window to mark the time.
I lurch to my feet and wrap the blanket around my shoulders tight. He couldn’t have gotten far. Did he actually take off and leave me here, alone?
The thought is an electric prod to my heart.
My cast iron pan lays forgotten on the floor. I’m too anxious to grab it. “Grayson?”
His whispered name echoes back to me. The kitchen is empty but the bedroom door is shut.
I grab the knob, twisting, and stop dead in my tracks.
Grayson tied himself to the bed.
Ropes keep his ankles spread, attached to the footboard. Two more keep his arms above his head.
How he managed to get the knots to tighten without help, I’ll never know. It takes way too long to make sense of the picture and by the time he blinks his eyes open. my breathing is ragged.
“What did you do?” I rush to help him and he grumbles low in his throat in warning.
“I didn’t want to hurt you again.” Sleep roughens his voice. “This was the only way for me to make sure.”
“You really are a damn Boy Scout.”
His muscles flex when he pulls against the knots.
“Where did you find the ropes? And how did you make the knots?”
Keeping myself upright is a challenge, not because I’m exhausted and every heartbeat feels like it’s pounding out of spite.
Because Grayson moves, his fingers curling, and his sleep darkened eyes narrow on me.
My shoulders hit the wall and my mouth dries.
He slicks his tongue against his lower lip and something stirs to life inside of me. Something I have no business feeling, especially not for a wolf who tied himself up. For me.
“It was the best way to keep you safe.”
It’s not an answer and it’s the only answer I need.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say out loud. “And you shouldn’t have let me sleep.”
He groans, discomfort written in the furrows of his forehead. “You were tired. It’s not safe to travel yet.”
“Well, the sun is up. Do you want some help untying yourself?”
I memorize the picture anyway and store it somewhere in my mind that I’m too chicken to examine.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”
As though the rising sun isn’t a guarantee he’ll stay human.
“Generally the change happens at night when the pull of the moon is the strongest,” I say, voice thready. “Once you learn to control it, you can force the shift during the day without too much pain. But for your first time, I’d say we’re pretty much in the clear.”
I take a step forward and he stops me with a wordless growl.
“I fully accept the risks and the consequences, Grayson.” This time I hold firm by the grace of everything holy. “Let me help you.”
He finally concedes and shakes his left arm. “I must have thrashed in my sleep. Generally the one knot is loose enough for me to slip if I need but it’s too tight now.”
Sheepishness looks good on him.
“You’re really good at these. And it’s a handy skill.”
My heart skips up to my throat before I lay a finger on him. Air snagging somewhere low, I pluck at the knots, the rope rough and scraping against his skin.
“My father wanted to make sure I knew what to do if the shit ever hit the fan. Big prepper type energy. He was convinced the world was going to end with a solar flare that took out all technology,” Grayson replies gruffly.
“Hey, he could be right. Now you know how to tie the best knots in town.”
I manage to undo one wrist and Grayson stalls me by wrapping his fingers around my wrist.
“I’ve got the rest, Mandi. Thank you.”
Our gazes meet and the same twitching sensation skitters along my insides. I nod, slowly retreating to the door where it’s safer for an entirely different reason.
I cross my arms over my chest and ignore the twinge of pain from the bandage on my forearm. “Now that it’s morning, we’ve got to figure out where to go next.”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
Grayson finishes his right wrist and moves to his ankles, his abs curling and the flannel lifting up to give me a glimpse of them. Oh. Damn.
I glance away as he says, “Because first thing’s first, we need coffee.”
“You’re suggesting a cabinet raid.”
“Absolutely. I saw the coffee maker on the counter yesterday. I’d say we’re in luck for a caffeine jolt and when we’re properly buzzed, we’ll figure out where to go. At least our absent host uses this place frequently enough to have some things stocked.”
The realization hangs unspoken between us.
Grayson jumps to his feet, the flannel falling into place again, towering over me.
Whatever the next step will be, it won’t be as simple as going home. Home isn’t safe for us or for our families right now. Not when we still need a cure. Not when he’s made it clear we’re in this together now, so wherever he goes, so do I.
He jerks his chin toward the door and follows me into the kitchen. My stomach gives an ominous rumble.
When was the last time I ate?
But when Grayson finds a yellow tin can of coffee and holds it overhead like a trophy, I forget about the emptiness in my gut.
“Score!” I clap my hands.
He gets the coffee going while I scour the fridge. There isn’t much on the shelves besides a box of baking soda. I have a bit more luck in the cabinets, finding a half empty box of protein bars and some trail mix.
I toss a bar to Grayson once he gets the percolator bubbling and ignore the strange tension seeping into the room.
“I’m thinking we’ll head to the witch’s house. I’m not sure if they managed to escape the vampires or any other moon-mad wolves. Maybe they made progress on research and development while I was…when the…” I trail off.
Grayson grins softly. “You don’t have to finish the sentence.”
He gives me an out, if I need it.
I sag with relief. “I think we need to check on them first. They’ll probably know where we can go. Somewhere safe.”
Grayson bites into the protein bar and grimaces. The taste might be bad but it’s what we’ve got, and something is better than nothing. He stares a little too long over my shoulder, chewing, lost in thought until his eyes go unfocused.
Or listening to something, someone, that isn’t there.
“Grayson?”
He snaps out of it and swallows. “Yeah. Sounds like a good plan to me.”
My brows furrow. “Does your head still hurt?”
“A little dizzy but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s just hot in here for me, I guess.”
“Then you better look for ice for your coffee.”
He shrugs out of the flannel and goosebumps line his skin.
We don’t talk much as we sip the coffee from two beat up tin mugs. Normally I’d hate the awkwardness of moving in silence with someone I barely know.
With Grayson, there’s comfort in the quiet.
My heart beats a little too quickly to relax but if Grayson notices, he says nothing.
I pull in a deep breath and chug the coffee I cooled with a little bit of tap water, walking out of the kitchen toward the door we’d locked against the wolf.
With every step I take, with every step Grayson follows and the floorboards vibrate, there’s more opportunity for him to notice how I can’t stop stealing looks at him.
By the time I undo the lock on the front door and step out onto the porch, I shudder with nerves. “Fuck. He shredded through the wood.”
Grayson cuts around me to the claw marks around the door and window. Siding reduced to sawdust scatters across the porch. Deep grooves draw parallel lines where the moon-mad wolf tried to get in and failed.
It’s terrifying. But it’s daylight. Maybe we’ll be okay.
“I still don’t understand why it took off the way it did,” I whisper.
Grayson shakes his head. “Who the hell knows? I’m not going to look too closely at it because it’s gone and it didn’t get in.”
The damage it caused might have been through skin and bone.
“All right, well let’s get out of here and find our way out of the woods,” he says.
“Follow the wolf instead of the breadcrumbs.”
“Absolutely,” Grayson says, tapping the side of his nose. “Between the two of us, we’ll be able to find a way, no problem.”
I follow him inside only long enough to set our cups in the sink. “You’re an optimist. I like it.”
There’s too much evidence of our presence to erase easily. I’d burned the old blood-soaked washcloth in the fireplace but the cabin will never be the same.
“You think I’m an optimist? Cute.” Grayson waits for me by the door while I finish my perusal then motions me toward the bedroom.
“What?”
“Go change. Our friendly hermit has clothing to spare.”
My eyes round. “They won’t fit me.”
“You can’t walk around looking the way you do. Trust me. Find something. He has belts if the pants are large.”
Outside my one glance at the mirror, I’ve avoided looking at myself entirely. Grayson is immovable and intimidating, enough to send me into the bedroom and rifling around a stranger’s clothing.
When I return, I’ve changed into a clean-ish white tank top and a much larger flannel overshirt, blue this time.
None of the pants will fit and even the belts are too large.
I swing the door shut behind me and stare at him. “I look like something the wolf dragged in. Definitely not cute.”
“It is when you’re entirely wrong. Maybe you’re not used to seeing it in yourself. Cute.” He towers over me.
“If you bop me on the nose then I swear I’ll—”
“What?” His eyes glow, waiting. “What will you do?”
There’s the feeling again, below my sternum, a fizzing of awareness.