This quick update is for your request, Ande! And you, incarnated-soul and SweetBubbleGum. And thanks to Alanna99 for the earlier review and putting me on her favorites list. You guys are great! Hope you enjoy it. To everyone else: Please! Please Review! You will absolutely make my day. A great thanks to my avid readers.
Chapter 19
Doug kicked off the tangled sheets, sending another spasm through his rib cage. He waited it out, cringing. He just couldn't sleep. He hadn't liked the way Leigh had run off into the woods trailing bloody footprints. He had wanted to chase after her—to make sure that she was okay. The detective hadn't let him and for good reason. Doug knew that he wouldn't be able to handle a walk through the woods. He could barely walk upright without feeling a lance of pain moving up his side.
She's just fine, he told himself. She probably just left to go home. She was tired. Besides, she'd heal quickly. A lot faster than he. Still, it bothered him the way her feet had still been bloody. Maybe she hadn't had enough energy to heal quickly.
He propped himself up on two elbows, viewing the dark room around him. Long thin lines of light penetrated through the slats in the Venetian blinds to fall across the bed. It was the only light he had but he'd adjusted to the darkness hours ago.
His parting with the detective was still nagging at him. He didn't like how quickly the detective had picked up on the situation. He knew what Leigh was now. He hadn't expected the detective to figure it out so easily—especially because Tross was so dense when it came to understanding personality types. He had immediately written Doug off as a ne'er do well. A drunken loser.
They hadn't exactly parted on a good note. Tross had been rather miffed that Doug wouldn't confide in him, especially since he had just saved Doug's life. There was also a lingering suspicion in the detective's eyes. He was still mistrustful of Doug and Leigh. Doug wouldn't have expected anything else, but it made the detective a wild card. He could go either way.
It would have been so easy just to let the whole story pour out. It would have been nice to let that information rest on someone else's shoulder's for once. It was getting hard to keep it all pent up inside. But Doug wasn't quite ready to trust the detective. Tross had his own goals in mind, his own aspirations. Sure, he would help them if it suited his purposes, but it was clear to see where his loyalty lay. With the police department and his own advancement, Doug thought a little bitterly.
Rubbing the sleepy dust from his eyes, Doug finally decided to give up on sleep for the night. It wasn't going to come no matter how long he lay there. Usually when he couldn't sleep, he would go for a run. That was completely out of the question for the time being.
He rolled out of bed, his knees hitting the floor. Slowly, he groaned to his feet and shuffled down the hall. He never should have taken his attention off of Grady—not even for a moment. Now he was paying for it. And if the incident ever got to Rollson's attention, Doug wasn't exactly in the condition to protect himself. He could only hope that the detective would keep his mouth shut until Doug could figure out a way to resolve this issue.
Grady wasn't the real problem. Rollson was the problem. And until he was unseated, he and all the werewolves in Lampton Hill could never believe that they were safe. Rollson would always come back for another jab. He had a score to settle with them. Doug too: because he was now as much a part of this as Jamie and her friends.
The stairs were the hardest part to navigate in the whole house. It must have taken him more than five minutes just to work his way downstairs. He swallowed bitterly. In his present condition, he was no help to anybody. He crossed the floor to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards until he felt his fingers clasp around a glass. He pulled it from the cupboard and unsteadily splashed some water into it from the sink. He took a long swallow, eliminating the bad taste from the back of his throat.
Doug thought he heard a rustling sound. He knew better than to think it was a tree branch rubbing against the back of the house. It was coming from the French doors just beyond the dining room. It almost sounded like claws scraping down the side of the house. He peeked his head through the kitchen door with bated breath.
He couldn't see anything from this distance—even though it was a lot lighter outside. The moon was high in the sky, pooling soft light against the oak table. Doug inched forward, moving to a crouch. It was nice to get out of that upright position anyway. It only made his ribcage feel worse. He took hold of a chair to steady himself and looked forward toward the French doors.
There was a long dark shadow and a single, midnight blue eye staring in at him. He nearly gave himself a heart attack with his sharp intake of breath. Slowly his heartbeat slowed as he realized exactly what he was looking at. It was a great majestic wolf with soft grey fur, tail thumping against the glass impatiently.
Doug moved to the door and opened it. "Leigh," he said as the wolf darted in between his legs and moved into the house. He tried to get a look at her paws, but she was moving to fast for him to get a chance. He was sure of one thing: she wasn't trailing blood any longer. She was carrying something large and black between her teeth. She dumped it on the carpet as she stopped in the living room. Doug realized that it was her leather jacket.
She took bounding steps, hurrying up the stairs and disappearing out of sight.
"Leigh?" He called after her. She didn't answer. With a sigh, he moved toward the couch and slumped into it. He didn't know what she was up to, but he didn't have enough energy to care. He was glad to have the relief seep through him, tumbling down his previous anxieties. She was okay. She was going to be okay. And thanks to her wolf blood she was probably already healed.
Doug leaned over to the wall, fumbling for the light switch. He found it and flicked it on. She squinted against the onslaught. He hadn't been ready for that blindingly radiant glow cast from the ceiling. Slowly, his eyes adjusted and he was able to see clearly.
He could hear the whisper of steps coming down the long hall and he looked up to see Leigh at the top of the stairs, resting against the banister in completely human form. He noted that she had taken the blanket from his bet and had wrapped it around herself. Her head was all that could be seen beyond the blanket. Her lustrous dark hair fell down her back, a complete contrast to the white quilt. Her blue eyes were weary and concerned and she was chewing on her lip—the way she did when she had a mission in mind.
Doug found, to his embarrassment, that his eyes were traveling lower. He snapped them up to her face, feeling his cheeks color slightly. He had a really hard time not thinking about what was beneath the blanket. She's your sister's age, he told himself. He had to repeat that thought a few times before he was able to pull his mind from the gutter.
"Do you have anything I could wear?" she asked.
"Hmm? Oh. Yeah." Great Doug, he scolded himself. Now she probably knows exactly what you were thinking. He got to his feet and moved to the suitcase that was still sitting on the living room floor. He wasn't exactly the best housekeeper. He unzipped the pack and rummaged inside trying to hide his guilty expression. He pulled a pair of his plaid pajama pants free. They had a band about the waist so at least they weren't likely to fall off her. She was several sizes smaller than Doug and for good reason. He also pulled a rumpled gray tee-shirt free, holding them up with a wince.
"Will these do?"
She moved down the stairs toward him, nodding. She was still chewing her lip in that cute way she always did. He didn't think she was aware that she even did it. She reached one hand out from the depths of the blanket and accepted the two items, her fingers brushing his lightly. There was a crackle of electricity and his heart thumped oddly.
"Umm," he said to distract himself, nodding toward the bathroom to the left of the living room. "You can change in there."
As soon as she had left the room, Doug moved back to the couch, pressing his face into the sofa back. He let out a nearly inaudible plaintive note and would have hit his head against the wall if Leigh hadn't been within hearing distance. Great Doug, just batter yourself some more.
Doug took a deep breath and pulled his face away from the cushioned back. "So what are you doing here?" he called out, trying to sound normal.
Her voice was muffled through the bathroom door, but it carried well enough.
"The Carlyle's house was dark and locked by the time I was able to get there," she called back. "I didn't want to wake them up and I couldn't think of where else to go…so I came here."
She sounded a little hesitant.
"No, you were right to come here," he answered her unasked question. He added before he lost the nerve. "You can take the bed. I'll take the couch."
Leigh's peeked through the bathroom door, her hair falling across her cheek. He couldn't quite understand the look she was giving him. It was somewhere in between relief and…what? Disappointment? He shook the thought from his mind. Leigh had never given him any reason to think she was interested in him.
She moved out of the bathroom, the baggy soft cloth accentuating each curve. The pants covered her legs in folds.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
So it wasn't disappointment. It was concern.
He shrugged. "I'll live—as long as the detective doesn't tell the whole world what happened last night. We can't let Rollson know or he'll bring in some men to wipe us all out."
He hadn't meant to burden her with his fears. For some reason, having her standing before him in his clothes was having a nervous effect on him. He looked down, "Sorry."
Leigh moved to the sofa, her feet whispering along the ornate rug. She sat beside him, giving him only a couple inches space. He could feel his heart rate increasing.
"No," she replied. "I was thinking the same things. You don't need to keep the truth from me. I can handle it."
He looked up at her with a crooked smile. "So, any bright ideas?"
She began to chew her lip again, fixating his gaze. "Well," she said thoughtfully. "I have one."
"What's that?"
"I have to bite you."
He looked up, startled. His eyes widened and his shoulder's stiffened. "No," he said firmly, lifting his hands up in front of him. "Absolutely not. You are not making me a wolf."
Leigh took his hands, pushing them down a little irritable. She didn't move them. He wished she would. "That's not what I meant," she protested. "What I'm trying to say, is that you're hurt. Badly. I need to change a few of your cells—just temporarily!—so you'll be able to heal faster.
Doug shook his head stubbornly.
"Doug," she said in exasperation. "You know I have to do this. If I don't—and Rollson finds out—you're as good as dead."
He took a deep sigh. He knew how much he wanted her to bite him again, to feel her heart beating against his. But if he let her, would she get the chance to see what was preoccupying his mind? But she was right. It needed to be fit for whatever lay ahead.
With a deep breath he said. "Okay. Bite me."
