He pinned me back against the doorframe, rising on his poor burnt hind legs until his face and mine were at the same height.
The scent of smoke and burning things wrapped around us as his hot breath touched my cheeks.
He inhaled, and his whole body began shaking.
He'd really thought I was dead.
"I'm okay," I murmured while I closed my eyes and tilted my chin to expose my throat.
"I wasn't in the trailer when it blew." His nose brushed from my jaw to my collarbone and he let out a low, wheezing cough that seemed to go on forever.
When it was finally over, he laid his head on my shoulder and began to change.
It would be safer for everyone if he were human, which was probably why he'd done it.
But he'd just been badly hurt-- and only just completed a change from human to wolf.
To attempt to reverse the shift within minutes was miserably difficult.
That he chose to do it anyway made it obvious to me that he was in very bad shape.
He'd never have started changing while he was touching me if he'd been fully aware.
The change is agonizing enough in itself; skin-on-skin contact makes it even worse.
Add to that his awkward position and the pain Adam was already in because of his burns, and I didn't know what would happen.
I slid slowly down the wall, bringing him with me as his skin stretched and the bones moved.
Watching a wolf change is not a beautiful thing.
I put my palms flat on the floor, so as not to give in to the temptation to touch him.
As much as my head knew more skin contact was the last thing he needed, my body was curiously convinced that I could alleviate the agony of the change.
I looked up at Ben and jerked my chin toward the nurse .
.
.
and the doctor who'd pulled the curtain back to join the fuss out front.
Ben gave me a "why me?" look.
In return, I glanced at Adam--obviously incapacitated--and then Sam, who was a wolf.
Ben looked up at the sky, invoking God's pity, I supposed.
He trudged over, hands cradled in front of his body, to solve the problems he could.
I caught Mary Jo's eye and interrupted a look directed at me .
.
.
such a look.