The Well-dressed Werewolf: A Gothic Paranormal Romance (Read by Candlelight Book 3) by Gillian St. Kevern

Author:Gillian St. Kevern [St. Kevern, Gillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780995121805
Published: 2019-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

17

“Wood.” Barton spoke with obvious effort. His breathing was harsh, his form bent over the trap. Each word was forced out from gritted teeth. “Return to the house. Alert Westaway, Miller—they must know of this as soon as possible.”

Barton’s words jerked Felix out of his shock. “And leave you? Never.”

“You will be of more use to me there. Only you know the truth of how this occurred. You must tell…” Barton coughed. “Tell them…this was deliberate.”

“Easy.” Felix eased Barton into a sitting position. He manoeuvred him against the tree trunk, stripping out of his jacket so that the trapped arm was supported. The metallic tint of the blood was overpowering, making his throat thick with bile. He forced himself to breathe through his mouth. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“There is no time,” Barton protested. He was pale, sweat pooling on his forehead.

With his arm trapped, it was impossible to judge the seriousness of the wound. It looked like a lot of blood—but Barton’s pulse was regular. If he didn’t move, if they got him medical attention… A lot of ifs.

Barton coughed. “Wood, I do not want to have to order you…”

“It’s no use. I’m a London-native. I can navigate the rookeries with my eyes closed, but give me a couple of trees and I’m lost.” Felix squeezed his arm. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

Barton shut his eyes. “God bless you, my son. But do not endanger yourself on my account. Before the wolves come, you must find a tree and climb it.”

So Barton too had thought ahead to the moon’s rising. “It has not yet come to that.” Felix pulled one revolver out of his vest. Raising it above his head, he fired three times in quick succession. “That ought to get someone’s attention.” He reached for the tin of ammunition in his pocket, thankful for whatever instinct had prompted him to pick it up. He would need every single one of those bullets if they were to have any hope of surviving the night.

Impossible to judge time when every second was measured by Barton’s laboured breathing, the glassiness of his skin, or the sun, sinking lower on the horizon. Felix forced himself to sit, conserving his energy as much as he could. Barton’s survival now rested wholly on him.

At last the sound of footsteps was heard within the woods. “As much as I dislike to argue with any of my guests, I think I’m right in saying the shot came from somewhere more in this direction—”

Felix shut his eyes as relief swept over him. Westaway. He staggered to his feet. “Over here!”

Westaway and Montague emerged out of the trees a few moments later. Both lycanthropes sized up the situation instantly, a heavy frown suffusing Montague’s face, as he checked his approach. Westaway—

Felix’s faltered, his feeling of relief fast vanishing. He’d never seen a man look blanker than Westaway now. “How did this happen?” There was almost nothing recognisable in his tone.

Felix stuttered out an explanation, heartily ashamed of himself.

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