CHAPTER SEVEN
Ezekiel
The moment he placed the items on the floor he heard a low growl followed by violent scuffling. Something fell against the porch. Hard. Furniture scraped over the wooden deck. Sierra’s shouts and screams, both terrified and angry, sent him flying back out the house.
On the ground Sierra struggled to wrestle the kit off the back of Odin’s neck where its muzzle was clamped, head whipping from side to side as if trying to rip out Odin’s spine.
Zeek’s rage at seeing Odin standing there, passively absorbing the pain of the attack as if he deserved it. As if he deserved to suffer for taking the life of the kit’s mother.
“Enough!” Zeek roared, reaching for and constricting his fingers around the kit’s neck until it released Odin.
Bending down, he wrapped his arm around Sierra’s waist and lifted her against him.
He walked both woman and kit into his back room, tossed them onto the sofa, and went back outside.
He picked up Odin and cradled him like a babe.
The day Zeek brought Odin home, his little ink stain barely fit in the palm of his hand.
Odin could be five pounds or five hundred, he’d always carry the love of a first born son.
He glared at the woman and the kit as he passed them. He walked into the kitchen where the light was brightest. Checking over his already injured dog, he saw that the back of Odin’s collar had taken the brunt of the kit’s attack. The actual injuries to Odin’s flesh were non-existent.
Zeek pressed his head against Odin’s to calm himself down.
“I’m so sorry,” Sierra whispered behind him. “I don’t know what happened. She was fine one minute, then she looked off toward some trees and then she just...snapped. I promise you she’s normally the sweetest, most intelligent animal I’ve ever known.”
Zeek lifted his head.
Odin looked at him with solemn eyes.
Standing, Zeek turned around and frowned at Sierra who held the kit against her shoulder. The woman was scuffed up and disheveled, scratches covered her forearms and hands, some bleeding. She was the only one who walked away from the kit’s attack with injuries.
“Next time you stay out of it,” he growled at her. He didn’t like that the woman was injured, but he focused on the kit in her arms over his feelings. Feelings for chaotic women was something best avoided.
Zeek made a clicking sound, and the kit turned to look at him.
“Your mama came on our land. She fought and died protecting you, and that’s an honorable thing,” he said, staring down the small fox.
“But Odin protects what’s ours; that’s well known.
Now I get it, you want vengeance for your mama’s death; but understand, anything from here on out will make your mother’s sacrifice a waste because I will put you down and bury you beside her if you ever go for Odin’s throat again. That’s a promise.”
The kit stared long enough for him to believe she understood the essence of what he said. Then she turned and rested her head within the nook of Sierra’s shoulder and neck.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know her mom had been killed here. I never would’ve brought her here if I’d known. We’ll just go?—”
“No. You’ll put the pup down and follow me to the bathroom to take care of your wounds.”
She look at Odin. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them?—”
“I’m not asking you what you think. I’m telling you what’s gonna happen. If you live on my land and the kit is gonna stay with you, the two of them will have to learn to coexist.”
He saw the spark of irritation in her gaze.
“You’re asking animals to do something I’m not sure you’re even capable of achieving,” she said calmly.
He liked that banked fire in her gaze. The way she held it in check.
And she wasn’t lying, he wasn’t good at coexisting with others.
“And you’re rude as shit,” she muttered, adjusting the kit and looking down at her injuries. “It’s all superficial. I can take care of this at my own house.”
Her house was his house, he started to say.
“Follow me,” he ordered instead, walking toward the bathroom.
“You’d better be grateful I care about you.” He heard her whisper. There was movement. He assumed she put the kit down. “Be good,” she whispered again.
Zeek entered the bathroom and pulled out antiseptic, a clean towel, and liquid bandages.
“Please go put some clothes on,” the woman snapped as she arrived at the bathroom, standing just inside the doorway.
He lowered his head, suppressed a smile. “You don’t like what you see?”
“No, I like what I see well enough. It’s just that I’m seeing way too fucking much of it. I don’t know you, man!”
Dropping all outward expression of humor, Zeek walked forward. Sierra plastered her back against the doorframe as if to let him pass, but he stopped in front of her, taking in her wild coils.
She smelled…right. Like tilled soil, pine, coconut, and lavender. It was a kind of scent that made him want to bury himself inside and rest.
Leaning in, he brushed his nose against the wild billowing softness then leaned back and gazed down into wide, warm brown eyes sheltered behind gold wire-framed glasses.
“You’re being a little weird right now,” she breathed out.
“You strike me as someone comfortable with a bit of weirdness,” he said, resting his hand on her hip as he guided her into the bathroom. He placed her against the pedestal sink and reached for the towel and antiseptic.
Grabbing her wrist he examined her injuries.
“Never met a woman to adopt a killer fox and treat it like it was her firstborn. That’s a bit weirdness.
As for me, I’m just getting to know my new tenant.
” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb.
“Plus, my mama always said the best way to get to know a person was to come as you were and see how they respond; and you, the way you respond to my body”—he caressed the outside of her wrist—“my touch. I think you like me and my weirdness just fine.” He dabbed the towel against her wounds and she hissed. “I’m right ain’t I, Ms. Sierra?”
“I should lie,” she muttered, as if talking to herself.
“Or you could be brave and tell the truth. I don’t have patience for liars.”
“Doesn’t seem like you have patience for a lot of things. But yes, you’re right. I’m…drawn…to something about you and I don’t know why because I don’t like drama?—”
“I’ve known you a few hours. Woman, you are drama.”
“—and a man who points a gun at me shouldn’t be the man who...” She avoided his gaze.
“Who what, Sierra?”
“Who makes me feel...things. To burn for... I mean to?—”
“You meant burn. And I didn’t point the gun at you.”
“—Yearn for things I haven’t had in a long time.
If I ever even had them,” she muttered as if he hadn’t spoken.
“I’m trying not be attracted to you, but it’s like you’re this freaking magnet that pulls at me and I don’t know why because it’s definitely not your calm demeanor or winning personality. ”
Bringing her forearm to his lips he blew on the open wounds then kissed the inside of her wrist before applying liquid bandage. “Feel better?”
She sobbed dramatically. “Noooo. I am hot and bothered, Ezekiel Evers, and you know it.”
He laughed from a place so deep he just learned it existed.
“Come on, Ms. Rowan, I want to show you how you can fulfill your promise to me. I’ll get dressed for this part.” He smiled. “Just so you can breathe a little easier.”