Rescued By The Wolf. Kristal Hollis
fried potatoes, vanilla and sweet cream, and sickly sweet chocolate assaulted his nose.
Uck! He hated chocolate.
Snorting to clear his nose, he honed in on the more delicate musk of the woman slumped over the partially deflated air bag.
His breath knotted in the back of his throat.
“Grace?” The soft rise and fall of her shoulders were a comfort beneath his palm.
Leaning over her to shut off the engine, he breathed a deep lungful of her heady essence. A frisson that had nothing to do with the residual shift energy coursed through his body.
She squinted and a whispery moan escaped her clenched mouth.
“Grace, can you hear me?” Squatting beside her, he tucked a few wisps of blond hair behind her ear. A trickle of blood seeped from the half-dollar-sized knot forming along the hairline above her temple. “You’ve been in an accident.”
Her eyelids opened on a sigh and the clearest, darkest green eyes he’d ever seen peered at him.
Every cell in his body froze. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. Damn near couldn’t think. Nine months hadn’t been long enough to weaken the pull he felt toward her, but he was in a better place to resist it.
“Rafe? Rafe Wyatt?”
He nodded. She recognized him and remembered his name. That shouldn’t make him feel good, but it did.
“Oh, no! The wolf!” Her panicked gaze darted past him. “Did I hit him?”
Either the knock on the head had really messed her up, or she didn’t know the truth about the wolves in Walker’s Run.
He guessed the latter. If the pack’s Alphena-in-waiting, Cassie Walker, had not confided in her best friend, then Rafe wouldn’t be the one to let the wolf out of the bag.
“He’s fine, Grace. I checked him before I came to you.”
“What a relief.” The strain on her face eased and she finally seemed to see all of him. “For Pete’s sake. Why are you naked?”
He stared at the open moon roof above Grace’s head, willing his body, his mind, and his wolf to behave.
“Haven’t you heard the stories?” He put an edge in his voice, despite the smile scratching at the corners of his mouth as Grace covered her eyes like the see-no-evil monkey. “I run naked through the woods and howl at the full moon.”
“The moon isn’t full.”
Rafe was thankful it wasn’t. His attraction toward her was real, dangerous, and something he wanted to avoid like the mange. A full moon would only heighten his awareness of her and weaken his resistance.
He lowered his eyes to her pink tank top and pink bottoms covered with tiny cat faces.
She liked cats and the color of bubble gum. Two strikes. One more and maybe he could get her out of his head for good. “Why are you driving around in your pajamas?”
“No one was supposed to see me.” She peeked through her fingers. “Hey! Don’t stare.” She slapped her arms over her chest, then quickly uncrossed them to grab her head. “Oh, no! I’m going to be sick.”
Covering her mouth, she bumped past him. He followed her to the spot beside the road where she’d dropped to her knees. Her stomach heaved, but expelled nothing. The muscles in her back rippled beneath his touch. “Relax. Everything will be all right.” He slowly stroked along her spine. As his hand warmed from the friction, something ebbed into his being. Something soft and feminine. Something that intrigued man and wolf. Something that would upend his life and he’d suffered enough upheaval. He couldn’t endure any more.
Grace swayed as she stood.
“I got you.” He pulled her against him. Her soft curves flush against his hard planes opened up a deep-seated yearning he needed to keep buried. But damn, it had been so long since he’d held a woman, and since he’d almost died tonight, what harm could come from a little hug?
The lightness of her feminine scent filtered through him. His ears tuned to the quiet, rapid breaths she swallowed. Her cantering heartbeat, softly thumping against his chest, slowed until the pace matched his. The synchronicity sparked an excitement that skipped along his nerves, soothing as much as it ignited him.
“I feel dizzy.” Grace squeezed her eyes shut.
“Maybe you should sit down.” He scooped her into his arms.
“Hey, no funny stuff,” she warned meekly. “These hands are lethal weapons.”
She wiggled her finely boned fingers with painted pink nails. She was so dainty and feminine, he couldn’t imagine her swatting a fly.
“I’m terrified,” he said mildly, although his heart raced like a hunted wolf whose only options were capture or escape. He carried her toward the disabled car. From what he could see, the front passenger side had suffered the brunt of the collision. He would know more once he got the car into his repair shop.
“You should be terrified. I was trained by the best.” Grace’s eyelids slowly shut.
“Who?” he asked, tucking her into the driver’s seat.
“My dad. He’s a former Navy Seal.”
“Appreciate the warning,” Rafe said to be polite. He wasn’t going to give in to his attraction to Grace, so there would be no need to meet Daddy.
She nodded, then clamped her hand over her mouth.
“Try not to move. Inhale slowly, deeply. Good, now exhale.”
He waited for her to complete a few deep breaths.
“I’m going to reach for your phone to call for help. No funny stuff, I promise.” Holding his breath so he wouldn’t indulge in her intriguing scent, he leaned over her to grab the phone from the jumbled contents of her purse on the passenger floorboard.
“What the hell is your passcode?” he asked, unable to access the keypad.
Grace scrunched her eyes and her lips stretched tight in a seal across her mouth. She clutched the hand in which he held the phone and the jolt he got from the innocent contact nearly knocked him on his ass. At least, it felt like it did. He glanced down to make sure his backside hadn’t actually kissed the ground.
After she keyed in the numbers 0-2-2-7, he jerked his hand from hers and backed away. “I need to find a spot with clear reception. Don’t fall asleep, got it?”
She didn’t respond.
“Grace?” He didn’t want to touch her.
Okay, that was a bald-faced lie. He definitely wanted to touch her again, to indulge in her softness, to see if her heat would take the chill off the soul-aching loneliness he endured.
“Grace,” he said sternly. “Answer me.”
With painstakingly slow movements, she gave him a thumbs-up.
“I’ll be quick. Don’t fall asleep.” He paced about fifty feet from the car until the phone registered a signal. His thumb hesitated above the touch screen before he placed the call.
“There’s a wreck on the old highway behind the McAllister homestead,” Rafe barked before Doc had a chance to utter a groggy, “Hello.”
“Are you all right, son?” Dr. Harold Habersham’s strained voice cut Rafe to the quick.
Since sobering up, Rafe tried hard not to cause his adoptive human father more grief.
Still, it lingered. Just below the surface. The old man loved his son too much for his own good.
“I’m fine.” Rafe frowned at the disabled car. “But I need the Co-op responders to pick up Grace Olsen. She’s got a knot on her head and dry heaves. Could be her nerves.