My Secret Werewolf Lover (My Secret Lover) Read Free

hair.”
    That twisted happily in my stomach. Oh, no. Hot, Dirty Stranger was not trying to seduce me right in my own tent.
    I blinked away some X-rated fantasies that thought conjured up. “You’re a werewolf,” I whispered, wishing my voice wasn’t so shaky.
    He didn’t reply. His eyes were on the move again, sliding along every inch of my poorly-covered body. I suppose he had a point about why he’d assumed my intentions were naughty.
    Against my better judgment, I slipped inside the sleeping compartment with him. I found the black duffel and stuffed a hand inside, yanking out the first garment my fingers closed around. I stuck my arms into the massively oversized, brown plaid shirt and secured the button over the center of my breasts first. That’s as far as I got before I heard Elijah’s bulk shift on the mattress. I spun around, afraid he was about to make another grab for me. Instead, I saw that his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open in a silent scream while his fingers dug into the wound near his shoulder.
    “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped. His silent scream turned into an anguished moan as he pulled his finger out. It was smeared with his blood.
    “The bullet is silver,” he said through clenched teeth. “It will have to come out.”
    “Well, of course it has to come out. But not with your dirty finger. The hole will get infected.”
    “The only thing that can make a werewolf’s wound fester rather than heal is silver,” he said, raking a hand through his messy, black waves. How could the man make snarled hair look so damned sexy?
    “Take it out,” he said. “Please.”
    My eyes widened. “Me? I don’t know anything about taking out a bullet. I don’t even know what half the shit in my First Aid kit is for.”
    “Do you have a knife?”
    My head shook back and forth rapidly. “No. No way.”
    “You went camping without a knife?”
    “I have a knife. I’m just not about to use it on you.”
    “A reassuring thought, though there would be no danger to me if you did. Not unless the knife was silver or plated.”
    “We should get you to a hospital,” I said, folding my arms over the single fastened button to stop a sudden shiver. “A doctor can take the bullet out surgically.”
    “I think you know why that isn’t possible.” His head rolled to the side so he could glance at the wound. “Please do this. I will heal rapidly if you cut the bullet out. If you don’t, I will lose my arm in a matter of days.”
    I sucked in a breath at this. His eyes, which were dimming to a much duller, almost grayish glow, pleaded his case. I’d tried to save the wolf, after all. Shouldn’t I try to save the man?
    “Let me get some stuff,” I said. “Stay here.” Not that he seemed in any shape to go anywhere else.
    After a couple minutes of dashing around, I returned with a towel and wet washrag, the First Aid kit, both of my flashlights, and a small hunting knife.
    I spread the towel beneath his shoulder and propped one of the flashlights nearby to direct more general light than the faux lantern provided. I sat beside him with the knife in my hand, not sure what to do. I pointed the other flashlight beam directly at the wound.
    “I can’t even see the bullet. How am I supposed to get it out?”
    “It’s deep. Cut down until you find it.”
    I gripped the knife handle tightly and held it over the wound. The blade looked huge compared to the bullet hole. My hand began to quiver.
    “I can’t do this,” I whispered, shutting my eyes as I pictured cutting through his magnificent flesh. “I don’t even have anything to numb the pain. You’ll suffer.”
    “I’m suffering now.” The inflection in his voice left no doubt of that.
    With a nod, I sucked in a deep breath and dug into the wound. He cried out and stiffened as the knife sliced down, and I used the tip to search until I felt it tap against metal. Blood flowed bright red over his chest and onto the towel as I