He began limping toward home. He stumbled often, fell a few times, and when he reached the clearing nearly collapsed in relief. Not there yet though. Keep going. The hill nearly finished him off. Then he was at his own door, fumbling the knob, his palms slick with sweat, his lack of coordination a bad sign though he couldn’t remember why.
Every move required careful thought. Limp over the threshold. Shut the door. Stay upright. Get help. Right—help. He’d have to wake her. That seemed rude though, to wake a houseguest after midnight. He could patch himself up. A good use of his medic training: deal with an injury himself and let Ember sleep.
He limped into the kitchen and looked down at his leg. The leg of his jeans was sodden with blood. When he tried to ease the jeans off, they stuck and tugged at the wound, and he bit down on a cry. They’d have to be cut off. Well, he could do that. He staggered to the drawer where he kept the scissors, and spots danced in his vision. He gripped the counter as lightheadedness overtook him. This was…bad? He might need help?
He chanced a look behind him and went still. Where he’d stood for a minute trying to collect his thoughts, a puddle had formed. From the puddle to where he stood now, a steady trail. His vision darkened for a moment. He drew a few deep breaths, and the darkness receded, but the heavy scent of his own blood made the facts plain.
He did need help.
“Ember,” he called. A minute passed, and he raised his voice to call again. “Ember.”
The door opened at the end of the hall. Her soft footfalls came near, her voice warm and sleepy. “Aaron? Everything all right?”
“Uh, no, not really.” He held onto the counter and shut his eyes as the room swam. “I need a favor, if you don’t mind. Uh, two. Favors. Please.”
“Of course I don’t mind—” A soft gasp, and then the light came on in the kitchen, followed by a cry. “Oh, Aaron. Tell me what to do.”
He had to list the two vital things while he was conscious, just in case he didn’t stay that way. Pain spiked down his leg, and he forced himself not to pant. Breathe deep. Stay conscious. “Get my kit. Under the bathroom counter. And the roll of plastic.”
She rocketed down the hall before he could finish, but she came back in seconds, carrying both items. “Got it. Now what?”
“Get me to Malachi.”
She left a note for Quinn:Aaron got hurt, but he’s fine. We’ve gone to the alpha to get him patched up.
He wasn’t fine by a long shot, and she had no idea if the alpha knew how to doctor one of the pack. Still she wrote the words, slid the neon-green sticky note under Quinn’s door, and followed Aaron to his truck. She had to remind him he wasn’t capable of driving, and then he insisted she layer the seat with plastic before he’d sit on it. Too many minutes later she was behind the wheel, following his directions.
If she showed up with a wounded wolf, would the alpha refrain from killing her for trespassing?
“What happened to you?” she said.
“Here, turn left.”
She did so. “Aaron? What happened?”
“When you get to the end of the driveway, park next to the truck, not in front of it. Don’t block it in.”
Message received: no questions while he was bleeding. Or maybe he was too woozy to notice she had asked. He didn’t speak again as she navigated a dirt driveway that seemed a mile long. She parked as directed, then shut off the truck and turned to look at him. He was sitting upright, looked alert, but his breathing had audibly tightened in the last few minutes.
“Can I help you down?” she said.
“Stay put. He knows.”
“He knows we’re here? You have to wait for your best friend to give you permission to step foot on his property?”
“Not me, you.”
Oh. She shuddered. “He might deny me permission?”
“Smells the blood.”
“So…? He knows that’s not my fault, right?” Of course he knew. Aaron wouldn’t have asked her to come here if the alpha were going to kill her for it.
“Circumstances.” He gripped his leg, leaned his head back, and let out a hard breath.
“Extenuating circumstances?”
He didn’t answer.
