Wynter blew out a breath, realizing how ridiculous it was that she was even thinking of the stranger. Given her dire situation, she’d be lucky if she made it out of the city alive. Focus, Wynter. Silently, she inched her body into the archway until she reached a large courtyard. She stilled, listening for signs of people. Moments passed and she heard nothing but the trickling water bubbling out of the three-layered fountain that had greeted her arrival. Intrepidly, she padded out onto the red herringboned brick patio. Dim ground lighting illuminated a large rectangular swimming pool. Despite the old woman’s temporary presence, no lights were on in the adjoining mansion or its rear cottage.
Wynter wondered if anyone even lived there. Obviously if the owners kept on late night help, the house was being used by someone. Or perhaps the property was a vacation home? Either way, she had to try to get help. But after knocking on both the main home and cottage’s door, she quickly came to the conclusion that it was vacant. She sighed in disappointment, deciding to wait until daylight to keep searching for help. Even if no one was home, she was grateful to be off the street, inside the safety of a quiet yard. In the morning, she could search around the exterior for a hidden key or see if she could get in the garage. If not, she’d try another house. She could more easily travel during the day as it was a much safer time for humans. All she needed was a phone, so she could make contact. Then she’d be home within hours.
Another wave of fatigue rolled through her body. So tired, she thought if she could catch a few hours of sleep, she’d be well enough to keep going. Spotting a few chaise lounges, she tore off the padding. She would have loved to have simply fallen into the chair, but there was no way she could risk being seen out in the open. Dragging the cushions, she squeezed into a secluded nook in between the fountain and a few large potted ferns. She pushed the foam onto the concrete and prayed that she’d be lucky enough to avoid bugs, knowing full well that was wishful thinking.
Curling onto her side, she released a small sob. How did I ever get into this mess? The night was dry at least, but she could feel the temperature dropping. She knew she should look for better shelter, but she felt drained, achy. Physically, she just couldn’t go on. The wave of lethargy weighed down her limbs, and she realized that she really didn’t feel well. As her adrenaline levels dropped, the burn from within grew, alerting her to the fever. Oh God no. This can’t happen now.
A spike of panic rose as a flash of possibilities ran through her mind. She knew that there’d been one too many occasions where she’d resisted. And in response they’d held her down; fed until she lost consciousness. She tried hard to remember what had happened during her blackouts. At first she’d been worried about sexual assault but that wasn’t their thing. No, they clearly preferred pure pain and intimidation. The vampires they’d entrusted to guard her had only been interested in one thing, her blood.
But why was she feeling so weak? She prayed it was merely the stress, a cold. She’d take a simple rhinopharyngitis any day over the lethal viruses she’d handled in the labs. No upper respiratory symptoms presented. Perhaps she’d caught a cytomegalovirus. Even though the virus she worked on targeted shifters, she’d suspected for months that the others were working on other viruses and genetic modifications targeted at vampires, humans and other supernaturals that she wasn’t even sure existed.
Another tear ran down her face. Wynter wished she’d never left New York. She felt indebted to her guardian, determined to help his race survive. He’d saved her all those years ago when her parents died. She’d been so alone. He’d been her loving caretaker, the one who brought her back from the devastation she’d felt when her home had been torn apart. She’d done the one thing she could do to help him, to help the pack. But now that she’d escaped, she wondered if she’d done the right thing. Shivering, feeling like a failure, she softly cried herself to sleep.
Glistening with sweat, Logan stared down in disbelief at where his wolf had led him. Like a baby lamb, his lovely dream girl was curled into a deep slumber. After taking note of the busted gate, he knew how she got into his courtyard. Questions swirled in his head. Did she know who he was? Is that why she came to his home? But if she knew him, why run? And why would she lay on the ground like a common dog, sleeping in the shadows? None of what had happened tonight was making any sense.
Black patches of dried blood mottled her face. The tattered coat did little to cover her bare legs. Goosebumps covered her pale skin as the temperature had dropped into the fifties. Seeing little choice, Logan shoved the plants aside, and bent down to her. Reaching for her face, he cupped her cheek. Damn, she was hot; not just warm, but burning up. He’d been right in the alley; she was sick.
“Aw, sweetheart, you’re on fire. Now, why did you run? And more importantly, who are you?” he asked himself out loud.
Her unconscious response was to cuddle further into her makeshift mattress. Swiftly but gently, he slid his hands under her tiny body, lifting her into his arms. Logan cursed silently, angry that he’d let her slip away earlier. Even in the heat of the moment, the aroma of her intoxicating scent had caught him off guard. He stilled, taking a minute to lean into her neck; she smelled so good. Despite the sweat and blood, her underlying essence connected with his wolf.
Shocked and aroused by his reaction, he shook his head. What was he doing? His damn wolf needed to get his act together. The woman was sick for fuck’s sake. Now wasn’t exactly the greatest time to get a hard on. He huffed and took off toward his back door. It was turning out to be one hell of a day.
With one hand, he typed in the security code and awkwardly leaned into the retina scan, careful not to press her against the exterior wall. As the lock clicked open, he pushed the door inward and entered his home. He raced up the steps and headed toward his bedroom. It felt foreign, bringing a strange woman into his inner sanctuary, but there was something about her that told him she wasn’t a threat. His visions. She needed him, but her origin and motives remained a mystery.
Logan strode over to his bed and sat on the edge, still cradling the girl. He’d hoped that with his inadvertent jostling she might wake up and answer his questions. But true to his luck that evening, she remained unconscious. Picking up his phone, he called Dimitri.
“Hey,” he addressed his beta. “Listen up, I’ve got our runner. I need you to get Dana down here.” Logan looked to her innocent face, wondering what kind of mess this human was wrapped up in.
“Dana? What’s wrong with her?” Dimitri asked. If Logan needed Dana, he knew the woman had been injured. Dana was Fiona’s half-sister, a doctor. Since she was hybrid, she’d decided on a career of human medicine.
“Yeah, Dana. The girl’s sick. And tell them to get here as soon as possible. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Just get here, ’K?” Logan told him tersely, hanging up the phone. His patience was stretched thin. It had been one goddamned long day. And at this point, things looked to be getting worse, not better.
Unsure of how to proceed, Logan decided a cool bath would help bring down her fever. He knew she’d panic if she woke up with a strange, nude man in the shower, but he didn’t have many options. Unbuttoning the few buttons on her coat, he tugged it off of her arms. His stomach tightened in anger as bite marks on her otherwise beautiful skin were revealed. Shit, he hated vampires. Tristan may have been best friends with a couple of them, but not him.