The Better to Bite by Cynthia Eden

Author:Cynthia Eden [Eden, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
Amazon: B00A29CA0M
Publisher: Curtis Brown Digital
Published: 2012-11-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I gave Rafe a quilt to use as a temporary cover, and he managed to lay flat down on the floor. I heard my dad talking outside. Other voices rose and fell.

“We have got to get you out of the den.” How would I explain this if my dad walked in? A naked, bleeding boy on the floor and me on top of him.

That would not go over well at all with the sheriff.

“Get…bullet out…first.”

I didn’t want to do that. Pulling a bloody bullet out of Rafe’s back…no, thank you. “Look, I don’t even have anything sterile here. I mean, what am I supposed to use—”

“Don’t worry…I won’t catch…any infections.”

His shoulders were broad, and his words were weak. He’d turned his face toward me, and I could see the lines of pain that bracketed his mouth. “I…heal from anything…but silver.”

I put my palm on his back. His skin felt warm, and the blood pulsed from the wound. “It looks like it’s in there deep.” Not near his spine, thank goodness, but about three inches to the left.

“Pull it…out.”

“With what?”

A car door slammed outside. My head jerked up. My dad’s back-up. Other deputies. Time was running out.

“Use…your fingers…just…ah…get it!”

His body started that shuddering thing again. Not good.

“You can’t take me to jail! You can’t!” Sounded like Mark Hamilton’s wild yell.

My teeth sank into my lower lip. “L-let me go into the kitchen, I can find something—”

He grabbed my hand. His skin looked yellow now. Another very not good sign. “Take it out.”

I managed a nod. I sucked in a deep breath, tasted blood, and I pushed my fingers into the gaping wound on his back.

He hissed out a breath even as I started muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Because I knew what I was doing had to hurt him. And I couldn’t find the bullet. The wound gaped and twisted inside. My fingers slipped and—

Footsteps thudded on the porch steps.

No.

My fingertips touched the hard edge of the bullet.

“Get it, Anna,” Rafe begged. “Just…get it out.”

The wood on the porch creaked. The footsteps were just outside of the door.

My fingers closed around the bullet. Not shattered, luckily, the bullet seemed to be one big piece. I yanked it out.

Rafe groaned, and his body sagged on the floor.

I jumped to my feet and ran for the door. My bloody hand curled around the bullet.

I flipped the lock and hauled open the door. Being careful to keep the fingers of my right hand out of site, I peered outside.

The light from the den—I had only opened the door a few precious inches—spilled onto the porch. My dad was staring down at the old wood beneath his feet.

Don’t see the blood. Don’t.

He glanced up at me. “Are you okay?”

No. A werewolf is bleeding out in the den. “Fine.”

He gazed back at me, a faint line between his brows.

I couldn’t even fake a smile to reassure him. The night was too crazy.

“Anna?”

I saw two patrol cars behind him. And it looked like some kind of animal control van had pulled up, too.

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