Everyone here could turn into a bear at will.
He sank onto the couch, a weary sigh escaping his lips, and she closed the door and looked at him. He was pale. A little too pale. She glanced at the blood that covered his chest on the right side and had soaked into the beige blanket near his hip too, and sickness swelled inside her. She swallowed the bile that rose into her throat and steeled her nerves, focused on taking care of him and pushed everything else to the back of her mind. Right now, tending to his wounds took priority.
Maybe she was just trying to pretend her world hadn’t taken a sharp turn towards crazy out in the woods.
“Do you think… I think we should call Yasmin.” She looked over her shoulder at the door and considered going out to find Saint to ask him to get the doctor for Lowe.
She looked back at him.
Lowe shook his head and sat up a little, his lips pulling taut as pain flared in his eyes. If he had been trying to make himself look less like he was knocking on Death’s door by sitting up, it hadn’t gone to plan. He grimaced and dabbed at his shoulder with his fingers.
Sighed.
“It’ll heal.” He swallowed hard and his hand dropped to his lap.
It would, but it was going to take days and if a bullet was still inside him, he might get sick. Could he get sick? She looked at the pill bottle in her hand, tempted to offer him one.
Lowe glanced at her, a look in his eyes that made her want to go to him, because he looked as if he expected her to run from him.
She wasn’t going anywhere.
As crazy as this place was, she wanted to be here.
With him.
And it wasn’t because Karl was out there looking for her.
Being here with Lowe felt right. As if she belonged by his side. She might feel as if she was going mad, had imagined half of what she had seen, but she was sure of one thing.
She had fallen for Lowe.
And she had fallen hard.
When she boiled it down, the fact that Lowe was different to her didn’t change a thing. She gazed at him, seeing the same man she had met in the forest that night—a noble, kind, and wonderful man.
“Do you have a med kit?” She wanted to smile when her words seemed to startle him, had his eyes widening and a look of disbelief flitting across his handsome face. “I said I wanted to take care of your injuries. Remember? If you won’t let me ask Saint to go for the doctor, then I’ll have to do.”
“I do… just…” His throat worked on another hard swallow and he gestured towards a cupboard. “Black bag.”
He hadn’t believed her. He had thought that as soon as they were alone that she would run from him, as if he was some big bad monster she should fear. There wasn’t a monster before her. There was only Lowe. Only the man she loved.
A man who needed her help.
A man who had bravely fought to protect her.
A man who had kept his promise to her. He had kept her safe. He had taken care of her. And now she could see in his eyes that he wanted to take care of the rest of her problem and deal with Karl. She couldn’t let that happen. Even once his wounds were bound, Lowe would be in no fit state to go out into the cold and up against five people. Knox was right about that.
For his twin’s sake and hers, she would keep him in this cabin, even when part of her wanted to be out there too, facing her problem and dealing with it.
Cameo found the bag and went to Lowe, settled the med kit on the couch beside him and focused on her task. She checked the wound on his shoulder first, grimacing as she moved around behind him and found an exit hole that was ragged and had tracked blood down his back. An exit wound was a good thing though.
She tried to recall her training and as it all came back to her, she sank into it, moving methodically from one step to the next. Using taking care of him to clear her mind and give this strange turn of events time to sink in. First, she cleaned the wounds. Then, she checked them, inspecting them more closely. Satisfied she couldn’t see any shrapnel from the bullet and the fact the bleeding had already slowed to a crawl, she cleaned around the wound again and covered it with a large dressing. She carefully smoothed the sticky edges down against his chest, her gaze tracking her fingers as guilt flared again.
Lowe lifted his left hand and caught her wrist. She glanced at him, got snagged in the soft look he was giving her.
“Don’t blame yourself.” He shook his head slightly.
How was that even possible? Lowe had been badly hurt because of her and if he had been human, like her, he probably would have died from this wound. Her gaze dropped to his hip. He certainly would have died from that one.
“You didn’t hurt me, Cameo. The man did.”
She sank to her backside on the couch beside him. A man she had killed. Lowe was right. It had been in part done in self-defence and in part done to protect another person and stop them from being killed, but she had still killed a man. Two men.
“What you did… it doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t change who you are.” Lowe stroked his thumb over the inside of her wrist, belief ringing in his deep voice, luring her gaze back to his. His blond eyebrows furrowed as he stared into her eyes. “Cameo…”
Pain surfaced in his eyes. Fear there too. His hand shook against hers again and she swore she could feel he was nervous. Maybe she was the nervous one.
Because she was about to take a leap.
“What you are, Lowe…” She clutched his wrist as he tried to draw his hand away from her, the fear winning in his eyes. She stopped him from distancing himself. She wasn’t out to hurt him. She only wanted to make him feel better. “That’s who you are and it doesn’t… it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“It doesn’t?” His blue eyes softened, a hopeful edge to them. “You… Cameo, I know this is all a lot to take in and it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. This place… everyone here—”
“Can turn into a bear.” She put it out there for him, hating the sight of him struggling and the fear that began to fill his eyes again. “Were you bitten by one and this just happened or… were you born like this.”
“I was born like this. We all were.” He tried to shift to face her and grimaced, his other hand falling to his side.
Cameo cursed herself for forgetting about his other wound. She gathered the necessary supplies, set them on the couch between them, and undid the blanket he had tucked around himself. It pooled in his lap, revealing his chest down to his hips, and she glanced at him.
Caught the fact the nerves that had been in his eyes were gone now. Because she was occupying herself with his injuries again and wasn’t talking about the fact he was a bear-man or because she wasn’t running?
She figured it was a bit of both, but she couldn’t stay silent. She could however make this easier on him by busying herself rather than staring at him while she talked about what he was.
“So this place is like your sanctuary? You’re all bear-men in a kind of… pack?” She grimaced at her poor choice of words as she cleaned the wound above his hip.
“Bear shifters, and it’s a pride. Wolves have packs. The rest of us have prides.” He tensed and a glance at him revealed it wasn’t because she had hurt him. The awkward and worried look on his face said it was because he had just revealed bears weren’t the only shifters in this world.