Soul Bonded (25 page)

Drawing a breath, Katie got to her feet and took stock of the situation. Cold air filtered in from a window at the far side of the den, where the boards Rafe had nailed down had been smashed to pieces. She decided her first priority had to be blocking off the opening. She couldn’t concentrate on caring for Shilah until the cabin was secure. With that in mind, she limped to the large oak bookcase that sat against the wall next to the window, propped the shotgun on the floor at her side, then used both hands to sweep books off the shelves and onto the floor.
 

Afraid that she was making too much noise but unsure what else to do, Katie kept one eye on the window as she emptied the bookcase. She fully expected another group of wolves to burst through at any second, but although she could clearly hear the fighting continue to rage out front, there was no sign of movement in the jagged slice of outdoors she could see through the hole the intruders had left. Once the bookcase was clear, Katie planted her hands on the side and shoved with all her might.
 

She managed to move the heavy piece of furniture a couple of inches before she had to rest. The scuffle in the attic and her fall from the hatch had definitely taken a toll. Her ankle throbbed and it was difficult to catch her breath—from exertion or panic, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she would give anything for Rafe’s strength right then. She closed her eyes briefly, reaching out with her mind to try and latch onto their connection. She was certain he was still alive, if only because she hadn’t experienced the gut-wrenching pain she sensed would come with his death. His presence within her was still strong despite their separation—by distance and species—and his energy centered her and gave her renewed focus.
 

Opening her eyes, she gave the bookcase another shove. Three more inches. Then she pushed again, straining and struggling until she managed to move it directly in front of the broken window. Without allowing herself time to breathe, she hastily refilled the shelves to provide extra weight to the obstacle she’d created. She doubted it would keep out a determined wolf all night, but at least she would hear it coming.

Living room secured, Katie snatched up the shotgun and ran back to the kitchen. Her heart stuttered at the sight of Shilah lying with his eyes closed, but he opened them as soon as she knelt by his side. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered to him. His tail wagged weakly at the sound of her voice. His obvious happiness at her mere presence tugged at her guilty conscience. “I’m so sorry, boy.
So
sorry.”

Shilah nuzzled her hand with his nose, snapping her back into focus. She knew what to do. She had to clean his wounds, just as Rafe had cleaned hers the night before. As long as she did everything that Rafe had done—short of healing Shilah with her hands, of course—there was a chance that he would survive. She just needed to keep Shilah alive until Rafe returned in the morning. Then Rafe could fix him.
 

That’s what she had to tell herself. Rafe could fix him.

The first thing she had to do was move Shilah to the bathroom. Not only would it be difficult to bring first-aid supplies to him, but they were too exposed in the kitchen. Here they could be rushed from all sides. The bathroom was a somewhat fortified position. At the very least, she could shut the door and hopefully have time to pick up her weapon before anyone broke through.
 

Unfortunately, moving Shilah to the bathroom required picking him up. There was no way to do so without hurting him, she knew, but her bigger concern was the possibility that she could make things worse. Some of the lacerations on his body were deep. She was scared to death that she would lift Shilah up and find herself fighting to keep his vital organs inside his body. But what other choice did she have?

“No choice,” Katie murmured. She also had no other option but to leave the shotgun behind as she carried Shilah to the bathroom. Using both hands, she very carefully eased her hands beneath him and attempted to lift his limp body to her chest. He was a big dog—sixty-five pounds at least—so she only managed to raise him a few inches off the floor. He left behind a small pool of blood, but mercifully, his only reaction to being moved was to whimper in the back of his throat. “Sorry, boy.” She glanced around, looking for options, then set him on the runner below the sink. It would be far easier to drag him than carry him.

She moved him to the bathroom as quickly as she dared, afraid to waste any more time before addressing his wounds. She had no idea how much blood a dog his size could lose before needing more, but she wagered he was already pushing the limit. She was pretty certain that blood loss and the potential for internal injuries were her biggest concerns. There wasn’t a lot she could do to address internal injuries, but she could sure as hell stop his bleeding.
 

Luckily, she’d left the bathroom door open earlier and was able to drag him right in. His front paws twitched after she stepped away, as though he wanted to jump up and follow her. She held out her hand to stop him. “Stay.”

He lay his head on the floor and stared at her with plaintive eyes. Heart breaking, Katie backed out of the bathroom and ran down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her singular focus was on getting the shotgun so she could examine Shilah more fully. So far she hadn’t observed any obviously fatal wounds. It was almost unbelievable that Shilah was alive at all, and that he’d been able to hold his own against a larger and more powerful opponent. What a tough dog.

As she approached the kitchen table, the hair-raising sensation of being watched swept over her. She slowed her pace and looked around, unsettled by the feeling that she wasn’t alone. After moving around unhindered since killing that last wolf in the living room, she’d simply assumed that she’d taken care of all the intruders. Now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she wasn’t giving these wolves enough credit. One of them could be biding its time, stalking her and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

No sooner had she thought it then something heavy slammed into her from behind. Already reaching for the shotgun, the barrel slipped out of her grasp as she fell to the kitchen floor. Determined not to get pinned on her stomach, she rolled onto her back and saw two things simultaneously: the yellow eyes of the wolf that had bitten her twenty-four hours ago, and the tantalizing shape of the stock of the shotgun hanging over the edge of the dining room table.

The biter held her down with his front paws, lips drawn back in a feral grin. Saliva dripped from his wicked jaw onto her face, turning her stomach. Before he could sink his teeth into her for a second time, Katie did the only thing she could think to do. She drove her fist into the center of his throat. The wolf let out a satisfying yelp, so she punched him again. He swiveled his head and caught her wrist with his teeth as she drew back her fist for another go, tearing her skin as she snatched her hand out of his jaw. Visceral emotion surged through her—anger at this wolf and his buddy for creating this whole mess, fear that Shilah was bleeding out at that very moment—and she jammed her thumb into one of the wolf’s yellow eyes with a ferocity that shocked even her.

The wolf roared in pain and turned his head to the side, trying to get away. Unconvinced that she could reach the shotgun from her position beneath him—not without getting chomped in the process—Katie pulled her thumb from his eye socket and scrabbled to reach the revolver that dug into the small of her back. Wrenching it out from beneath her with a cry of relief, she disengaged the safety and pointed the muzzle directly at the wolf’s head. Then she pulled the trigger, sobbing as the wolf’s remaining eye went blank and he transformed into the man who had traumatized her so badly the night before.
 

Having his naked, dead weight on top of her was almost too horrific to bear. She pushed at his shoulders frantically, rolling out from beneath him with a tremulous whimper. Uneasily aware that she was on the verge of a genuine emotional meltdown, she set the revolver on the floor beside her. Then she grabbed the shotgun from the table and cradled it to her chest as she tried not to lose her composure.
 

Four wolves had descended upon the cabin after finding the two bodies she’d left outside, and now four corpses littered the floors of Rafe’s home. There was a good chance that she’d just killed the last of the intruders, but she wouldn’t put money on it. The biter had lain in wait for a good ten minutes while she barricaded the window and carried Shilah to the bathroom, biding his time even when she’d been vulnerable to attack, so it stood to reason that yet another wolf could be doing the same thing now. Maybe they enjoyed toying with humans just as much in wolf form as they did when they were human. In any event, she had to search the cabin before she could focus on Shilah. She needed to be certain they wouldn’t be ambushed again.

She struggled to her feet only because she knew Shilah’s life depended on her not shutting down completely. It took every bit of her courage to walk into the den, shotgun at the ready, and check the closets. She was nervous about finding another wolf lying in wait. Frankly, she couldn’t believe she was still alive. She’d killed six werewolves tonight.
Six
. Even if she’d made a mistake in leaving Shilah to fend for himself, those were six wolves who wouldn’t join in an attack on Rafe. That had to give him a better chance of survival. Maybe something good
would
come out of her stubborn impulsivity, after all.

She conducted a cautious search of every room before concluding, gratefully, that she had managed to kill every werewolf that had broken into the cabin. Trudging her way back to the bathroom, she tried to guess just how much time had passed since she’d left Shilah. It felt like hours. Perhaps it was only ten minutes. It was impossible to tell—time had lost all meaning. Wolves continued to fight outside, but for now, no one else seemed interested in breaking in. Hopeful that she would finally have time to work, Katie went to her patient, nervous about what she would find.

Shilah’s ears perked as she entered the room, but he betrayed no other sign of movement. Closing and locking the door behind her, Katie leaned the shotgun against the sink and sank to her knees for her first good look at Shilah’s wounds.
 

He was a mess. There was no other way to describe it. His coarse brown fur was matted with tacky blood, pink tissue peeked out from deep slices on his chest, and the corner of one ear had been torn clean off. She blinked back tears as she searched through the medicine cabinet for supplies. “We’re going to fix you up, boy. Then when your daddy gets home, he’ll
really
fix you. I know he will.”

The quiet thump of Shilah’s tail against the floor encouraged her that she wasn’t just being overly optimistic. Shilah was a strong dog, clearly, and if he’d held on this long, surely he could make it until morning. Pleased when she found a first aid kit that included needles and suture thread, she only hoped she could successfully close the wounds that required stitches. Of course, before she could do that, she would have to wash and disinfect them. She grabbed the antibiotic ointment, disheartened to find half the tube gone. She hated to use all the medical supplies on Shilah when she was worried that Rafe would need them tomorrow morning, but she couldn’t
not
treat Shilah’s wounds.

She would just use the ointment sparingly—and hope that Rafe’s ability to heal himself would come into play when this long, hellish night was over. Because she needed him back with her.

Now
.

Somehow, she was able to clean and stitch Shilah’s wounds in relative peace. She could hear the occasional muffled snarl or howl from outside, but there were no obvious attempts to break in to the cabin, and nobody tried to breach the closed bathroom door. Time faded away as she meticulously washed each gash on Shilah’s body, her entire world narrowing to the injured dog in front of her. Certain that Rafe wouldn’t mind, she borrowed his razor and shaved the fur away from the lacerations she felt were deep enough to require stitches. Then she went to work creating the sloppiest sutures she’d ever seen.

Shilah lay perfectly still for nearly all of her tending, only twitching and pulling away during her first couple of tries with the needle and thread. Soon she fell into a comfortable rhythm with her needle work and Shilah relaxed, watching her with alert brown eyes. She was relieved to discover that none of his injuries seemed particularly life-threatening, save for one deep cut on his side. Katie wasn’t certain whether it was deep enough that she needed to worry about internal bleeding, but that wound made her nervous. So did his leg, which was twisted and nearly severed at the knee.
 

“I’d give anything for an emergency vet right now,” Katie murmured to him. Considering her options briefly, she pulled off her shirt and wrapped it tightly around Shilah’s leg, creating a tourniquet. This was one injury she simply didn’t know how to treat. She suspected he would need a cast—or God forbid, an amputation—and she was in the position to provide neither. All she could do now was keep him comfortable and get them through the rest of this hellish night.
 

Exhaling shakily, Katie stroked Shilah’s head and tried to decide what to do next. She could either defend this position or else move Shilah to Rafe’s bedroom and defend that one. Though she hated the idea of moving Shilah again, the small, confined space they were in made her nervous. If a wolf did break into the bathroom, there would be very little room to maneuver. Shilah could easily get caught up in a fight that his body was in no condition to survive.
 

That settled it. She had to move Shilah somewhere safe.

Not about to make the same mistake as last time, she took the shotgun and walked through the cabin on another security sweep. She visited every room and opened every closet door, unwilling to get surprised again. Satisfied that they were still alone, she tucked the revolver into her jeans and left the shotgun on Rafe’s bed. Spotting Shilah’s dog pillow in the corner of the room, she carried it to the closet, opening the door and arranging it safely inside. She could hide Shilah in there for the night. That way, even if wolves broke in, he would be safe from harm.