Page 45 of The Crimson Wolf
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Sunlight warms my cheek and tickles my eyelids. My head pounds like a motherfucker, but I can’t help waking up. I sit, blinking slowly as I take in my surroundings. “What the fuck?” I say as I assess the mahogany furniture and the warm linens around me.
The bedroom door swings open, and there he is—holding two cups of coffee and an examining look on his face.
“How are you feeling?” Jack asks.
I don’t answer at first. My brain rushes to assemble the missing pieces of how I ended up back in Jack’s cabin. The steamy events with Cameron until I downed half a bottleof brandy flash through my mind. I bend over, cupping my head in my hands.
Jack rushes to me, placing the cups of coffee on the bedside table and putting an arm around me. “Are you okay?”
I push his arm away without thinking. Something about his touch chills me. I meet his eyes to catch the hurt expression on his face. “I’m fine.” My head pounds from the volume of my own words, and I rub my temples. “Well, I’m hungover as fuck, but other than that, I’m fine.”
“Here, drink this. It will make you feel better.” He hands me the steaming cup of coffee, and I take a sip, trying to focus on the warmth flowing down my throat instead of the nausea bubbling in my stomach. After a few gulps, my head clears enough to direct a line of questions. “Jack, how did I get here?”
He grabs my hands, holding them in his. “I rescued you last night. I’ve been hunting you for the past four days. I’m sorry it took so long to find you.”
Fear drops through me like a torpedo, remembering Jack’s title isn’t “rescuer” but “Werewolf Hunter.” “Where’s Cameron?”
“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you.” He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.
“Did you hurt him?” I can’t hide the panic in my voice.
Jack gives me a quizzical look. “Do you not want me to hurt him? He kidnapped you and drugged you.”
“He didn’t drug me.” I jump to my feet. “Just answer me. Did you hurt him?”
He stands, slowly stepping toward me and studying my face. “Did he use mind control on you? I know werewolves are capable of that. I swear if one of those disgusting animals got in your head, I’ll rip out their innards.”
I want to question why he failed to mention Cameron was a werewolf earlier or reprimand him for speaking so ill of werewolves, which I happen to be. Still, the only thing I can focus on right now is knowing whether Cameron’s safe.
Jack was wrong about werewolves. Cameron is not evil. He chained himself to a pillar to protect me and used every ounce of his will to stop me from doing something I might regret in the morning. Even with the bright light of my hangover shining over my memories, I don’t regret what I did last night. I was under some sort of Blood Moon spell, but I’d do everything all over again with a clear head. There’s something between Cameron and me—something I can’t explain.
I don’t back down. “Jack, just tell me.”
“No.” His rough tone startles me. “He was chained to a pillar, knocked out. I broke into the room and found you. I didn’t have time to kill him. I had to make sureyou were okay. But the other hunters will be there soon to try to finish the job. Him kidnapping you goes against everything in our alliance. The police protect the Human Liaison as long as humans in the area are safe.”
I grab his arm. “Jack, you have to tell them to stop. You can’t hurt him.”
He shakes me off—repulsed, studying me before grabbing my arms. “Red, snap out of it. Werewolves are evil, disgusting creatures. He tried to kill you.”
“No!” I pull my arms back. “How can you say that? My father was a werewolf.”
“He was part werewolf, and I’m sorry Red, but your mother would be alive today if it weren’t for him. Werewolves have evil in their blood.”
I’m stunned, silent for a moment. I examine his features—his broad chest, his cut jawline, and the magnetic green in his eyes. A few days ago, simply being in his presence weakened my knees. He was my childhood crush—my best friend, and with just a few words, his novelty melts away. Maybe my otherworldly connection with Cameron is related to it, but I know that’s not true. He just said my father had evil in his veins, which means he must think I’m evil, too.
I straighten my shoulders and stare him down. “I’m a werewolf, Jack.”
He clicks his tongue and turns away from me. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Just because your father was less than doesn’t mean you inherited those traits.”
I can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. I try to replay our past conversations. Did he talk this way about my father before? Surely, even with what little I knew about werewolves, I would be repulsed by how he speaks.
I step closer to him, anger overtaking every emotion. “Well, guess what, Jack? That makes me less than, too, because I inherited those traits. I have powers all heightened by the Blood Moon.” I point a finger into his chest and cock my head. “I guess I was right about you thinking less of me in high school. You just wanted to fuck me because I lost a few pounds. No matter what, I’ll always be disgusting to you, but I promise you, you look a hell of a lot more hideous from where I’m standing.” Maybe coming into my powers gives me some sort of wolfy dominance thing. I don’t recognize this harsh self, but I don’t hate it. Without letting myself waver or regret my words, I turn toward Jack’s bedroom door to storm out and do whatever I can to rescue Cameron.
Jack grabs my hand, pulling me back to him. I capture his expression, not letting the rage leave my face; his is soft and defeated. Maybe I spoke too soon, and it’s not what it seems. Maybe Jack cares for me and spoke rashly after daysof worry riddled his senses. I soften, stepping close to him to hear what he has to say.
He relaxes his grip around my wrist and trails his fingers up my arm. “I’m sorry, Red. Werewolves killed my mom, and I’ll never get over it. You’re not disgusting to me.”
