She opened her mouth as if to say something, then obviously thought the better of it and simply nodded. She walked away, calling to the wolf within even as she did so. He watched the fluid beauty of the change, as attracted to the golden wolf as he was the woman.
When her form was finally claimed by the shadows, he walked over to where the woman's truck had been parked. Moisture gleamed wetly on the road surface. He squatted, and dipped a finger into the fluid. Oil. From the size of the puddle, the truck had a sizable leak. He scanned the rest of the immediate area, but couldn't see anything else of use.
As he rose, lights swept into the parking lot, highlighting him in brightness. He threw up a hand to protect his eyes and tried to see if it was Trista or someone else.
The vehicle cruised slowly towards him, as if intent on keeping him pinned in the light. He frowned, an odd sense of unease creeping up his spine. He took a step back. As he did so, the engine gunned, and with a squeal of tires, the truck came hurtling towards him. He waited until it was clear that the truck wasn't going to swerve, then threw himself sideways. His shoulder crashed into the side of a nearby car, sending a shockwave of pain down his left arm. The truck clipped the car, metal screeched and then the car was skidding in his direction, jarring his arm a second time. Pain swirled through him, but he ignored it and backed away quickly from the two vehicles. The truck swung away, and the high beam of the lights no longer pinned him. He caught a glimpse of wild brown hair, dark glasses and a small pinched mouth before his gaze focused on something else—the small crossbow hanging out the window. A crossbow armed with what looked like a wooden arrow.
He swore, spun around, and ran for the back of the car. Almost immediately he heard the soft twang as the arrow was released, then the hiss of air as the deadly weapon hurtled towards him. He wasn't going to make it to the end of the vehicle, even though it was less than a pace away. He threw himself to the ground in the hope the woman had aimed high rather than low, and the arrow would simply go over his head.
She hadn't aimed high.
The arrow hit his flesh just below the back of his knee, cutting through skin and muscle even as he crashed onto the asphalt. Pain rose like a tidal wave, swamping him in agony. White ash. The thought cut through the pain as quickly as the arrow had cut through his body, and with it came the taste of fear. White ash was particularly deadly to werewolves and shapeshifters. With the arrow in his flesh, he couldn't move in human form, couldn't shift to his wolf form. He couldn't do anything but grit his teeth against the urge to scream at the fiery agony swamping his system.
Yet, despite the pain, his senses were still working, because sound assaulted him. The deep rumble of the truck, which was still too close. Shouts coming from the direction of the club. Laughter, high and wild and oddly familiar. The growl of a wolf in attack mode.
He forced his eyes open. Saw a golden wolf in mid-flight, high off the ground, arrowing towards the truck. Hallucinating, he thought, blinking to clear the image. It didn't. The wolf crashed into the driver's door and teeth flashed, shining white in the black night. Blood spurted, a warm rich scent his nose caught swiftly on the breeze. There was a yelp of pain then the engine gunned and the wolf dropped back to the ground as the truck disappeared.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the asphalt. Quick steps approached, but the pain was all consuming and he couldn't find the energy to force his eyes open a second time.
Cool hands touched his forehead, and the smell of exotic flowers swamped him. It did nothing to ease the pain, but by God, he was glad she was here.
Not that he could ever tell her that.
"Tane's gone to fetch the medikit and to call an ambulance,” she said, her warm, sweet voice distant yet filled with concern.
Tell him to hurry, he thought, then her words impacted on his drifting consciousness. Who the hell was Tane? No one he knew, that was for sure. “White ash,” he hissed, shaking his head a little to clear the sweat from his forehead and try to keep himself from sliding into unconsciousness.
"I'm glad I managed to sink my teeth into the bitch,” she muttered. “At least the arrow missed everything vital."
There was no such thing as missing something vital, and they both knew it. With the white ash in his flesh he was as helpless as a day-old pup, and if the wood remained in his skin too long, it would poison him as surely and as swiftly as arsenic.
"Take it out,” he ground out between clenched teeth. God, why was she even hesitating?
The chill of her touch had moved down to his leg. As much as he welcomed it, it was also excruciating. Even the gentle caress of her fingers against his jeans seemed to move the arrow deeper.
"The arrow's barbed,” she said, her voice seeming to come from farther and farther away. “I can't take it out. I can only push it through."
"Do it.” It had to be better than the burning touch of the wood.
"You'll be maimed for days."
"And I'll be worse than maimed if you don't goddamn remove it."
"Cade, if one of the barbs breaks off—"
I know,” he interrupted, his words little more than a gasp of air, his flesh running with sweat and feeling like a furnace. “Just do it."
She took a deep, shuddering breath and said. “Tane, give me that knife you always keep down your boots."
Tane again. He sure as hell was going to find out who this person was. Considering she'd supposedly never come here before, she seemed awfully familiar with the man.
So, you are jealous, a voice whispered inside his mind.
A female voice, familiar and yet not.
No, he replied.
Then why claim her as you have? Why react so protectively when she talks to another male?