Half Wolf. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
it was a safe bet that every single female across the country had been given those same rules, no one had mentioned the fact that they might not work. She hadn’t spoken to anybody, had just been minding her own business walking across university grounds from the library to her studio apartment.
Searing red flashes behind her eyes warned that she was going into shock, and still standing only because the creep held her upright. She no longer felt her hands or feet. Nerve twitches that should have instigated muscle movement produced no response at all.
Shit.
Help me!
She was so very scared, and cold, though she had started to sweat. Inside, she was fighting, struggling. Outwardly, she did zip. This attacker’s maniacal strength and the speed with which he had executed it severed any prospects of a worthwhile reaction.
What sort of creature bit a person?
Pervert.
Animal.
Monster...
Her thoughts began to fuzz over. Blackness floated in from the periphery of her brain like spilled ink spreading on a flat white surface, threatening a last hold on sanity.
Would she ever see her family again?
Tingling sensations accompanied her blood pressure’s plummeting descent. Dark thoughts dangled. The monster was going to kill her beneath the trees bordering the pathway. She was on her own here because this was Friday night, and everybody else would be either prepping for the weekend or hitting the books. She had walked here at least twenty times this past semester, thinking it safe.
And now she was going to die. Out here. Alone. Just weeks before presenting her doctorate thesis.
She did not want to die, not like this or any other way. Her life hadn’t really started yet.
Don’t deserve this.
She had no energy left to finish the argument. The night had grown darker.
Somebody help me.
Anybody. Please...
Kaitlin prayed, chanting inwardly and straining to keep her eyes open for the last few precious seconds of life. Nothing seemed real. Nothing felt real.
Stomach convulsing, head exploding in a last hurrah, she heard another sound break through the darkness, stirring an internal response. It sounded like the growl of a large animal. Low, guttural and unmistakably menacing, that growl rolled toward her.
But maybe, just maybe, this was merely the sound a soul made when prepping for flight.
Her soul.
No. Not that. God, not that, because the monster beside her also heard the noise. When he lifted his head, part of her T-shirt hung from his teeth, soaked in blood.
His sudden withdrawal was more painful than the initial attack had been. The world began to spin, mingling with the sound of another ferocious animal growl that came from right on top of them.
Can’t hold on...
The monster released her. She fell, sliding down the bark of the tree, sinking onto numb buttocks with her legs folded. In the dullness of tunneling vision, she witnessed a blur of black on black, deeper than the night itself, approaching.
Like a whirlwind, the blur of fluid darkness swept her attacker aside, seeming to temporarily shift things in her favor. In life’s favor. Too weak to make any kind of acknowledgment, Kaitlin fought the wave of light-headedness threatening to overtake her.
In her dimming periphery, squeals broke through the silence—sounds reminiscent of fierce fighting that seemed to come from every direction at once. A high-pitched whine was followed by a scream and the unmistakable sound of flesh tearing. But it wasn’t her flesh being torn this time.
Not this time.
Kaitlin heaved up one final inward cry. Tears were running down her cheeks. When the night became quiet, the silence was scary. And then an artificial softness descended like a cloud, as if she’d been covered by a fur coat. That softness caressed her legs and thighs beneath the hem of her denim shorts.
After the terrible events of the past few minutes, sensation of any kind seemed odd. So, was this gentle caress a sign of Death knocking at her door?
With great difficulty, Kaitlin cracked open her eyes. Looking out through teary slits, she found the face of a man kneeling beside her—a half-naked man, his skin gleaming from the waist up in the dappled moonlight filtering through branches.
This wasn’t the creep that had tried to steal her life force. This guy had broad shoulders and a sculpted chest etched with scrolling tattoos. His hair was dark, long, and a stark contrast to his face.
Could this be an angel?
Moonlight encircled his position as if he sat in the center of a searchlight beam, but his features were hidden by shadows. He didn’t speak, just sat there looking at her as if appraising the situation. If this was a trick, if he wasn’t to be trusted, well, there wasn’t much left for him to take.
When gentle fingers touched her face she winced, because tenderness in the malignant moonlight felt wrong. Her visitor finally spoke in a deep, hushed voice. “It’s all right now. That thing is gone.”
He moved inches forward so that moonlight flooded his face with a wash of pure silver. Kaitlin couldn’t see much past the splashes of blood on his lips and chiseled cheeks. That blood was as black as his hair.
She did a quick reassessment, wanting to understand what kind of an angel would appear like this. Fear made a comeback. Rattles of protest welled up in her chest. Was the blood on his face hers?
The man’s fingers slipped to her chin, which he tilted slowly upward. “You’re safe.”
I’m dying, she wanted to say.
As if he had heard the words, he brought his face close to hers. From inches away, he observed her with the brightest eyes she had ever seen—eyes that glowed a light luminous green and shone with intelligence and understanding. Beautiful eyes. Kind. Sympathetic. Not quite human.
His attention made the last wisp of her consciousness flicker way down deep inside her, almost in a sexual way. Kaitlin wanted to reach out and touch those angular cheeks. She wanted to wipe the slashes of crimson away and thank him for helping her.
She couldn’t do any of that.
He spoke again, slowly, so that she could hear and comprehend.
“You can be healed.”
There just wasn’t one bit of energy left to argue with him. Threads were separating. She’d been attacked, mauled, only to be saved by a what? Man? Angel? Madman? Beast? He hunched there like a predator, with radiant eyes indicative of some animal species. She sensed an edge to his sympathy. He hadn’t picked up a cell phone to call for help.
His presence kept her from drifting off. Kaitlin willed her body to hang on for a few more seconds, afraid he would leave, afraid that if she closed her eyes she’d never open them again and die alone.
Please stay with me.
Help me.
Did he hear her plea? He nodded as if he had.
When he put his arms around her, a strangled moan erupted from her throat—the pain was so very great. Her head hit his solid, soothingly bare chest as he lifted her into his arms, high off the ground.
An odd thought wafted through her mind that it would have been tough for an angel to manage the saggy mess of a twenty-three-year-old woman. Yet if this was an angel, who was going to argue? If he were to take her to heaven, she was in good hands.
Or so she thought until he shifted her weight and the pain came crashing down—crushing, pulverizing, boiling—as though she had imploded.
But it wasn’t over yet. He gripped her with care and whispered assurances. As he turned,