Shifters of Grrr 2 (40 page)

I scrambled to my feet and ran toward the lights. Each step jostled my torn shoulder, and as I ran I sobbed with the pain of the gaping wound. I could feel my own warm blood flowing down my back. I fought through the pain, driving my legs forward, pushing myself to fight for safety.

I cleared the forest, and my feet slapped against damp, dewy grass. I raced down a flagstone path, weaving between ornate statues and elaborate topiary beds. I cleared the steps three at a time, screaming as the pain tore at my shoulder. Behind me, I heard growls and snarls as more creatures emerged from the trees, each one desperate to bring me down.

The door – I was nearly there! I fumbled for the bell, pushed it three times, collapsed against the ornate carved panels, banging my fists against it, knowing any moment that something was going to come up behind me and finish me off. Paws thudded across the cobbles, claws clinking against the concrete path. I couldn't hear anything inside the house. I pounded on the window. "Simon!" I cried. "Let me in! It's Ryan, he's in trouble!"

The door flew open, and I toppled on to the marble floor. Simon stared at me, disbelief written across his face. He went to help me to my feet, but a flash of red flew between us
. Ryan.
His paws skidded on the marble, and he yelped as he hit the side of the staircase, and crumpled into a heap.

Outside, I heard something snarling as it raced across the lawn towards us. A dark shape running straight for the door.
 

"Close it! Close it!" I screamed. If that thing got in the house, we'd be doomed.

Simon slammed the door shut, just as the beast slammed into it. I heard wood splintering. It howled as it clawed at the solid door, scratching at it with the same claws that had torn open my shoulder. Simon slid the old-fashioned bolts across, punched a combination into an alarm box, and scattered a handful of herbs from a nearby urn across the threshold.

"This house is protected," he said to me, though it sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. "They can't get in here without breaking some powerful magical protection. Nevertheless, we should move to a less exposed part of the house."

I nodded, my head spinning as shock started to set in. My legs buckled beneath me, and I slumped against the door, sliding down until I sat on the cool marble tiles. I watched the fox as if in a trance, unable to quite connect my thoughts together in my fuzzy mind.
 

With eyes filled with pain, Ryan pulled himself on all fours and moved deeper into the house, dragging his right hind leg behind him. I could see a trail of blood on the marble.

I felt powerful hands under my arms, lifting me to my feet. "Quickly now," said Simon, supporting me with his own body as he shuffled down the hall after Ryan. "He's injured, and I need to tend to his wounds. In his fox form, he doesn't like humans to touch him. If he hides too deep in this house, I'll never find him."

I let Simon lead me across the opulent entrance hall. We followed Ryan down a corridor, up a narrow flight of stairs, and down another wide corridor into a brightly painted drawing room – another room, like Ryan's light-soaked gallery, completely stripped of the stuffy, formal English furniture that adorned the rest of the manor. Simon lay me on a sofa, then closed and bolted the doors.

"Please," he gestured to the pile of bright cushions beside me. "Make yourself comfortable. There are drinks in that cabinet if you need something to calm your nerves. I'll fetch you food in a moment. I need to attend to him." I heard Ryan's claws clacking against the waxed wooden floor, deeper in the room.

"My shoulder–" I moaned. The pain was becoming unbearable.
 

Sighing. Simon turned to me, pulling a first aid kit from a drawer beneath the liquor cabinet. He sat on the coffee table, facing me, and quickly cleaned my wound, peeled the backing off a dressing, and pressed it onto my shoulder. I tried to turn my head to look, but he pushed my chin gently away. "It's a nasty cut," he said kindly, "but you'll heal." When he had finished, he handed me two pills, and a glass of whisky. "For the pain," he said. "I know you shouldn't mix these with alcohol, but I think in this case, we can make an exception."

From somewhere behind me, Ryan whimpered. Simon whistled. Ryan gave a short yip in response. I watched, numb with shock and fear, as Simon reached inside a high cupboard and pulled out a towel. He bent down in front of Ryan, who had hidden behind an overstuffed chair on the far side of the room, and lovingly rubbed his fur dry. "Let's take a look at that leg," he said.

Ryan whimpered again, the sound tearing at my insides. "Don't hurt him," I whispered.

Simon shushed him. "You know it is much better to dress wounds while you're in fox form, Master Ryan." He pulled the first aid kit across the table and got to work cleaning and wrapping Ryan's wound.

"Excuse the master," he said kindly, as he dabbed at Ryan's matted fur, while Ryan panted. "If he's exerted himself a great deal, it takes him a few minutes to gain the strength to shift back to human form, especially when he has been injured."

"I understand," I breathed, gulping down the scotch, enjoying the warmth as it circled my throat. "I'm a little tapped of strength myself."

Simon got up, took my empty glass, and poured me another drink. He handed that to me, and then filled another two glasses, raising one to his own lips. "I hope you don't mind scotch. Ryan has his particular tastes, of course, and we don't often have visitors, so I don't have much on hand."

I only nodded; staring at the fox slumped beside the door, panting as he licked at his wound. My stomach clenched tight.
Oh, Ryan, please be okay.
 

The whisky was starting to take effect, warming me from the inside out. The sting in my shoulder subsided into a dull ache. Simon and I sat opposite each other, drinking in silence, watching the fox try to tug off the bandage, waiting for Ryan the human to materialise.

"You can touch him," said Simon kindly.

I set down my drink, and knelt beside Ryan. His breathing was laboured, and he stared at me with large brown eyes, filled with pain. I reached out a hand toward him, letting him sniff it, nudging it with his snout. He snorted, his warm breath tickling my hand, and I smiled, despite my fear. I leaned down, reached around his neck, and hugged him to me, running my hands through his thick, soft fur, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath. I buried my head in his fur, taking in the woody scent of him. "Please come back to us, Ryan," I said, feeling my tears fall against him. "I choose you."

Slowly, in my arms, I felt the fox begin to change. Beneath his fur, Ryan's bones were reforming, elongating and twisting to become human limbs. His fur shrunk away, revealing warm, clammy flesh. I held tight to him as his body twisted under my touch, and in a few moments, I was holding Ryan the human,
my
Ryan. He raised his arms and embraced me in return.

"You are safe," he breathed into my ear, his naked skin warm against me. "That is what matters."

I laughed, tears streaking my face. "You had me worried there for a minute, when you wouldn't change back."

"I'm here now," he said, stroking my hair. I rested my head on his shoulder.
 

"Master?" I looked up. Simon was standing above us, holding out a warm robe.
 

Ryan looked up at his butler. "Thank you once again, my friend." he said, his voice unusually tender. Reluctantly, I moved away from him so he could pull the robe over his muscled shoulders, drawing it closed over his sculpted chest, covering his beautiful body. "My bandage is now a little tight. If you could look at that, and then check the windows and doors, make sure the protections are still in place."

I extracted myself from Ryan's grasp so Simon could re-bandage his leg. I watched as he removed the bandage, my stomach turning as I saw the long gashes splitting the skin. Simon had neatly stitched them up, but they still looked bad.
Poor Ryan.
My shoulder wound hadn't been bad enough to need stitches.

When Simon was finished, he helped Ryan to his feet, and handed him an ornately carved wooden cane to help him support his leg. "I'll leave you in Ms. Kline's capable hands," he said, then left.

Ryan grinned at me, his knuckles white as he gripped the cane. "Well, that was some adventure," he said, pulling on the collar of his robe.

"It certainly was."

"You were hurt." He looked so serious.

I showed him the shoulder wound. "I assume that wolf was Isengrim? Why didn't Clara's protection spell work on him? Why was he able to touch me?"

"He's strong enough to push through it," Ryan said. "Although not strong enough to do any real damage. If you hadn't been wearing that charm, he would've eviscerated you right there."

I winced. "How delightful. How about you? Are you in an awful lot of pain?"

"I've had worse," he grunted, as he shuffled toward me. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk
at all
."

 
He narrowed the space between us in a flash, and once again I found myself lost in those wide, brown eyes. He reached up with his free hand, and grazed my cheek, his fingers dancing over my temple, stroking my forehead, cupping my chin. My breath caught in my throat. I didn't want him to stop.

He held my chin up and leaned in closer, his lips brushing mine.
Soft, so soft and tender
. Not like the kiss earlier in the evening. Not what I expected from his eyes filled with lust and passion. Gently he prised open my lips, and his tongue entwined with mine. My whole body coursed with warmth, aching for him to touch me, to take me rough and wild.

Ryan reached up with his hands to cup my cheeks, pulling me closer. I leaned against him, pressing my body against his. A moan escaped my lips as he slid one arm across the small of my back, lifting my shirt so he pressed his palm against my skin.

His fingers crept up my spine, reaching up to unclasp my bra.
Yes, yes!
I wanted him so badly, wanted to feel the warmth of his fingers all over me. I kissed him more forcefully, my tongue exploring the depths of his mouth, inviting him deeper into mine.

The next thing I knew, his wounded leg buckled beneath him and he fell heavily against me, his teeth knocking against mine as we collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"I guess I can't put as much weight on this leg as I thought," he smiled weakly, wincing as he picked himself up and held out a hand for me. He stared me up and down, no doubt taking in my dishevelled appearance, wild hair, sodden, dirty clothes, and bandaged shoulder.
Is he rethinking his passion?

"Ryan–" I began.

With a look of determination on his face, he snatched up his cane, and grabbed my hand, dragging me through the drawing room into another long, dark hallway. He kicked a door open, and yanked me inside.

Ryan flicked on the light, and I gasped in awe. We stood in an opulent bedroom decorated in an elaborate, sensual style. Red velvet drapes hung from the curtains, held back with gold ties. In the centre of the room stood a large oak bed covered in red silk sheets and gold pillows, while above it, hanging from the ceiling, were two large, gilded mirrors. I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine as I wondered what it would be like looking up into those mirrors.
Is this where we would–

Ryan hobbled across the room and threw open a closet door, revealing row upon row of women's garments. I followed him into the enormous closet, running my hand down a rack of evening dresses, feeling the sumptuous silks and chiffons slide through my fingers. Another rack held winter coats in an assortment of rich, dark colours. Buttery soft leather jackets hung next to tight black jeans and designer t-shirts. At the back of the closet stood row after row of shoes – sky-high red heels, black motorcycle boots, wedges and flats in every colour of the rainbow.

"This is what you wanted to show me? That you're secretly a cross-dresser."

"You're lucky you're so beautiful," he replied, grabbing me around the waist and kissing my neck, sending another delicious shiver down my spine. "Your sense of humour could really turn off a man. These are for you, Alex. Your clothes have been ruined. It's the least I can do. Choose what you need for the night."

He thinks I'm beautiful.
While choosing fresh clothes was the last thing on my mind, I thought I might be able to find something sexy to wear for him. I turned to the closet and buried my face in the racks, hiding my flushed cheeks amongst the designer garments. In a shelf near the back, I found lingerie – silk negligees, lace teddies, all the typical stuff that wasn't my style at all. In a drawer under the shelf, I found a silk pyjama set that was halfway between prostitute and grandmother.
Perfect.
I also found some jeans and a t-shirt in my size, for the morning.

He gestured to a pile of towels in another alcove, then opened the door to the
ensuite
. "You'll find everything you need in here," he said. "Just ring the bell by the door if you need something, and Simon will bring it up to you."

I sat down on the corner of the bed, realising that he intended for me to sleep here...alone. Disappointment surged through me.

"You're leaving me here?"

He stared at me with hard eyes. "It's been a long night, Alex. I am in pain. We both need to rest."