lying on her side, but instead of instantly recoiling when she sees me, she stays still.
I cock my head but then realize her eyes are closed.
I take another step closer, and the coppery tang of blood filters to my nostrils. For one heart stopping moment, I can’t breathe. The beast killed her. He tore out her throat after all.
My fear is confirmed when I see the pool of blood beneath her head. She’s still lying on her side, the chair still toppled over.
She hasn’t moved since I left.
I dive toward her and slide to a stop at her side. The dusty wood planks leave burns on my shins from my desperate attempts to reach her, but I don’t pay it any attention. My skin will heal within a few minutes anyway.
“Brianna!” I lift her head, inspecting her neck for the slash from the beast. He loves to go for the throat, a killing strike every time, before he tears the flesh away and wolfs it down.
Tears pool in my eyes, making my vision blur, but her moan renders me completely still.
She’s alive.
I blink the tears away and carefully inspect her skin. She’s chaffed from the ropes, but her neck is smooth and unharmed. I wrap my hand gently around her head and feel for injuries.
There.
My fingers alight on the cut and large bump on her scalp. It’s sticky from dried blood, and she moans again before wincing.
“Fucking hell, Collin.” I gently lift her and the chair until she’s upright again and give silent thanks that the beast hasn’t woken yet.
I don’t know how long I have before he’ll be fighting my control again so I make quick work of her restraints.
Within seconds, I have the knots undone and am lifting her gently from the chair. My jaw locks when I see her rope burns. She’s fought nonstop. In some areas, the skin is worn completely away. Only dried blood is visible in those spots.
Disgust with myself cuts through me like a knife. I hate that I hurt her. Hate it so fucking much that I want to rip my hair out.
But I shove the self-loathing down and move toward the kitchen. There’s no running water, but I carried up barrels of fresh stream water two days ago in anticipation of keeping her with me for weeks. Most of those barrels are for cooking and bathing, but a few I filtered for drinking.
In the corner, I lay out one of the blankets I brought and set her down. I prop her against the wall. She winces but her eyes remain closed, so I reach for my supplies.
I don’t know how bad her head injury is, but it’s bad enough that it knocked her out.
Grabbing a pot of water and a clean cloth, I get to work on her numerous wounds. But it’s only after I’ve completely cleaned the dried blood away and begin dabbing antiseptic on the open areas that she hisses and her eyes flash open.
The second her gaze alights on me, terror fills her eyes and she shoves herself against the wall so hard that the planks heave in protest.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just trying to clean your wounds.”
The distrust in her eyes remains as well as the fear, and then it hits me.
She saw me shift.
She saw the beast emerge, and she’s a human.
I want to smack myself. She has no idea supernaturals exist, and I introduce her to us by shifting into a blood-thirsty rogue and lunging for her throat.
Nice one, Coll.
She whimpers, and before I can say anything to reassure her, she lashes out.
Her kick connects with my jaw, snapping my head back, before she shoves against me and bolts to her feet. Upright, she sways. Her body looks like a slender tree about to topple over, but I push up and catch her right before she falls.
“It’s okay,” I say again, lowering her back to the corner. “You hit your head. You’re probably dizzy from that, and it’s been hours since you’ve had anything to drink.”
Her mouth parts, and I see how dry her lips are.
Once again, I realize what a piss-poor job I’ve done. All I could think about was taking her, keeping her, and making her mine. I didn’t think that she’s a live human being who would no doubt fight me every chance she got.
Duh, dip-shit.
“Here, have something to drink.” I pour a glass of the filtered stream water and hold it to her lips.