The wolf finishes with a snap of its jaw and a grunt. The dog turns and wisely runs into the woods behind the house. I should follow its lead, and get the hell out of there. I know it. Yet, I don’t move. I watch the wolf with curious eyes.
I’m not afraid when it turns its head and looks at me. I don’t flinch when it starts in my direction. I lose myself in its blue-eyed gaze.
It pauses briefly, mere steps from me, and sniffs. Then it brushes by me.
I turn to watch as it limps around the corner of the house, up the porch steps . . . and right through the open front door.
“Oh, shit!”
I’m now that girl who runs after a wolf after letting it in the house.
How did I get here? Where did I take a wrong turn to find myself on this path?
I’m surrounded by mayhem no matter what I do or where I go. A quiet night of reading has transformed into a nightmare involving mutant birds, broken windows, carnage . . . and a wolf running loose in my house.
Dad is going to kill me when he gets home.
I walk through the front door slowly, carefully, with the skillet clutched tightly in my hands. A soft thump through the ceiling confirms the worst. The wolf is upstairs.
I hold my weapon up, ready to swing at the first sign of trouble, as I tiptoe up the stairs. I can hear water running from the bathroom, though I am positive Jill isn’t home.
No one is home. It’s just me . . . and a wolf.
Halfway up the stairs, I spot a drop of blood. Two steps later, another drop. I follow the trail all the way to my bedroom door. The sound of running water is louder now. It’s definitely coming from my bathroom.
I toe the bedroom door all the way open and readjust my grip on the skillet before I enter. Sweat dampens my hands, making it nearly impossible to hold now. I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like this thing—as heavy as it is—will keep me out of the jaws of that massive wolf.
But I hear splashing now, from my sink, in my bathroom, and I need to know. I need to see what is in there with my own eyes.
The bathroom door is half ajar. I approach it slowly, on my toes. My arm trembles as I extend the skillet and use it to push the door the rest of the way open.
The makeshift weapon drops to the floor with a loud thud, fortunately missing my feet. Even if I had taken a direct hit, I doubt I would have noticed. Not when I see what is in my bathroom.
Leaning over the sink, his head lowered between his shoulders as blood drips from his mouth, is Luca. He’s naked, aside from the over-sized pink towel wrapped around his waist. The chain I always see hanging from his neck is attached to a small pendant that dangles above the sink.
He rolls his head to look at me, and I see the full extent of his injuries. Not only is his lip cut open, but there is a large gash above his left eye. His back, shoulders, and what I can see of his chest are covered in scratches and fresh marks.
“Are you alright?” he asks me.
“Am I alright? What . . .” I stare at him, afraid to ask what happened to him.
I don’t want to hear the answer I know he will give me. Deep down, I already know, but I refuse to give up the thin sliver of sanity I am still clinging to.
I swallow. “Where is it? The wolf? Where did it go?”
Luca holds my gaze for a long moment before he turns to spit a mouthful of blood into my sink. He runs the water, washing it down the drain.
I stagger backward, suddenly dizzy. The back of my knees collide with the corner of my bed, and I collapse onto it. I sit there, silently freaking out, as I listen to Luca in my bathroom.
Spit. Splash. Groan. Repeat.
I have no idea how much time passes before he walks out of the bathroom. He stands across the room from me, quietly watching me.
Breathe in. Breathe out. The more I attempt to control the pace, the faster and harder the breaths come. The pressure on my chest grows heavier. My spot-filled vision worsens. The room and everything in it disappears into a blurry void. All I see is that ridiculous pink towel around Luca’s waist when he steps closer.
He crouches down in front of me, but I can’t meet his gaze. Not yet.
“This isn’t what I had in mind when I said I would find another way to prove it to you,” he says softly.
“I don’t . . .” I finally look up and meet his gaze. “I don’t understand what’s happening. How did you get here? Where is the wolf? I followed a wolf up here, Luca. Where is it?”
He places a hand to his battered chest. “I’m right here, Sav.”
Chapter 12
I can’t breathe. The oxygen has been vacuumed from the room through the broken window, and I am suffocating to death while sitting on my bed with a half-naked Luca crouched in front of me. Wearing Jill’s stupid pink towel.
Suddenly, I am on my feet and being jerked around the room by a powerful force. I end up standing beside my bed, facing the wall of pictures, none of which I can see with my blurred vision. I’m vaguely aware of my limp arms being maneuvered into a position above my head before being placed into a trap.
That doesn’t sound right.
I roll my head back to get a better look. Not a trap. Luca’s hands.
He holds my arms up in the air while saying something about calming down.
I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop freaking out.
“Breathe, Sav,” he coaches me softly. “Nice and steady.”
I try to inhale, but it sounds like a dying pig taking its last breath.
He shifts his body, bringing us closer. My nose buries in the curve of his warm neck, and his stubble-covered jaw scrapes my forehead as I stare down at the pendant dangling in front of me. It looks like . . .
Is that a wolf fang?
A single giggle bubbles up. Then a bunch more. I can’t stop them. I sound like a maniac, laughing uncontrollably and unable to stop. Between bursts of laughter, I gasp for the air that I can’t seem to get enough of.
Luca moves both of my arms into one of his huge hands so that his other hand can cup my chin. He tips my head back. “Look at me, Sav. Focus on me and breathe.”
His tone is a demanding one—impossible to ignore. Or disobey.
My laughter fades when my gaze meets his. Then my eyes wander down, over the full lips mere inches above mine and along the curve of his rough jaw, to the wide expanse of chest I’m pressed against. I gulp, but not from panic. Not anymore. I’ve found something else to freak out over now.
“Umm . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stammer.
“Why?”
“You’re . . . naked.” I glance up at his face in time to glimpse a fleeting grin.
His shoulders move, drawing my attention to the cords of muscle that wrap his arms. “I have a towel on.”
“You need to take that towel off.”
He inhales sharply. Neither of us seem capable of breathing now, and I don’t dare move as I hit rewind to review my poor choice of words.
“That’s not . . .” I grimace. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Okay,” Luca drawls slowly. His heavy breath fans the hair tucked behind my ear, and his grip tightens.
I need him to let me go. I can’t think clearly, let alone speak, with his body pressed up against mine. I wiggle my fingers, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“That’s Jill’s towel,” I manage to explain. “It’s pink.”