Taken by the Wolf: Collection Read Free Page B

pinned to one breast.
    “Oh my,” was all she could manage as the sight of this mountain of a man in uniform made her heart do backflips. Embarrassment, flushed her cheeks as she clamped her hand over her mouth, still lying on the ground.
    “Well, come on,” he said with an edge to his voice. “On your feet. The day isn’t going to start itself.”
    She tried to stand up, but he reached down with one large hand, grasping her by the elbow, and yanked her off the ground to her feet. She’d never felt as light as she did in that moment—he’d moved her like she was a sack of potatoes.
    “Thank you,” she said, still unsure what was going on. She was in a strange person’s house and the last thing she remembered was being attacked the night before by the greasy biker outside the bar. Everything after that was a complete blur.
    “Your shirt is a mess,” he said, throwing a blue tank top down on the bed. “This should fit you.”
    “What’s wrong with my shirt?” she asked.
    “You’ll see when you take it off,” he said, shutting the door behind him.
    “I think I liked him better when he was just eye candy,” she said, slipping her white t-shirt over her head. There was no warmth behind his words; he almost sounded annoyed to have her here.
    She looked down at the back of her shirt; it had drops of blood all over it from her head wound the night before. A sick feeling began developing in her stomach; she reached up and felt at the back of her hair, finding it thick and crunchy with dried blood.
    “Do you have a shower?” she asked, walking out of the bedroom after she had slipped the tank top on. “I need to clean the blood out of my hair.”
    Her mysterious savior was standing in the kitchen, eating scrambled eggs of a plate. He looked up from his mouthful of food. Without a word he pointed down a short hallway before returning to gobbling his eggs.
    “Thanks,” she muttered. The house was straight out of the 1950s. It appeared to have two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, dining and living rooms. There wasn’t much to it. Eva wouldn’t have been shocked if the garage was detached and sitting behind the house. Luckily her savior had shampoo in his bathroom, though it didn’t look like it got used too much. It felt great to wash the blood out of her hair and feel at least somewhat clean again after her ordeal the night before.
    When she was satisfied with the job she’d done she walked back into the kitchen, finding her man waiting with his arms crossed.
    “I couldn’t stand the blood in my hair,” she said.
    “Understandable,” he said. “Most females don’t like blood in their fur.”
    “Fur?” she said, giving him a strange look. What was this guy’s deal?
    “Yes, fur,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and tossing one to her. “We’re going to be late. We need to hurry.”
    “Late to where?” she asked.
    “City Hall,” he said. “We have a meeting with the mayor.”
    “We?” she asked. “You’re the sheriff or deputy or whatever of this place. I have to be getting back to my car. Can you drop me there on your way to work?”
    “Afraid not,” he said, giving her a cool look. “We’re going to see the mayor.”
    “Why the hell am I going to see the mayor?” she demanded. Had she broken some law last night? Was this guy taking her in?
    “Because we have to figure out what to do with you,” he said, looking annoyed.
    “What to do with me? How about you just take me home? I have to work tonight!” she said, putting her hands on her hips and shooting him an annoyed glare.
    “Nope,” he said. It was beginning to really grate on her nerves, how matter of fact he was with everything he said. She had read the confidence all over him last night—the way he carried himself, the look on his face, the smirk he’d given her when he caught her looking—but she hadn’t expected it to carry over into him being so stubborn. Did he really think he could