Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
The wall-mounted phone rang, splintering his thoughts.
He crossed to it and picked up the receiver. ‘Yeah?’
‘Rip, it’s Logan,’ said his brother, a hint of urgency in his voice. ‘I’m at Black Willow Manor. I was on patrol; heard roaring and howling and came right over. The witch who lives here just got attacked outside by a Rabid.’
Emotions surged through Ripper – shock, anger, concern, protectiveness – and every muscle in his body locked in position. ‘She all right?’ The words came out through gritted teeth.
‘She’s fine, just a little banged up.’
‘You didn’t need to call him,’ he heard Emberlyn say in the background. ‘I’m good. There’s nothing anyone can do that I’m not already doing.’
The hint of pain lacing her words sliced at Ripper. ‘I’ll be right there,’ he told his brother. ‘Stay with her.’ He hung up, darted out of the house and jumped into his truck.
He took a shortcut through his territory, arriving at the manor in record time. He quickly stalked up the path, vaulted up the steps and knocked on the door.
Logan answered, tipping his chin. ‘Hey.’ He opened the door wide. ‘She’s in the kitchen.’
Agitation in every step, Ripper prowled past him, tracking the sounds coming from what could only be the kitchen. ‘Did you capture the Rabid?’
‘No,’ replied Logan, trailing behind him. ‘I would have tracked it, but it had clawed the witch good so I figured it was more important to get her inside. Then you asked me to stay with her.’
Ripper clenched his jaw, annoyed that the Rabid had gotten away even as he conceded that his brother had made the best choice.
As Ripper entered the kitchen, the pleasant scents of herbs, flowers and chamomile wafted over him . . . but they did nothing to hide the smells of pain and blood. The latter two dragged his instincts to protect and shield straight to the surface.
They also made his blood boil.
Protectiveness was hardwired into his nature, amplified by his Alpha status. It chafed everything in him that someone he’d sworn to safeguard had been harmed; grated on his very being, until his skin felt rubbed raw. Emberlyn wasn’t one of his wolves, but she was his to keep safe.
Even Millicent’s will said so. Sort of.
Emberlyn stood at the cluttered table, her wrist rolling as she ground herbs into a mortar with a pestle. She’d changed into a racerback top and shorts, probably because her clothes were torn. She’d also styled her hair into a side braid that dangled over her shoulder.
Ripper stalked over to her, briefly eyeing the growling black cat who was angrily prowling up and down on the countertop. ‘You all right?’ The fury-edged words came out curt and gruff.
Emberlyn slid him a quick look, cool and composed. ‘Mostly.’ She sighed at the pacing feline. ‘Lucie, calm down.’
He felt his face harden as he saw the four rake marks creeping over Emberlyn’s shoulder. Motherfucker. He shifted behind her to properly examine them. They were long and deep, though not so deep they’d require stitches. ‘You hurt anywhere else?’
‘Only my lower leg. Got clawed there, too. It could have been worse,’ she added with a loose shrug.
If it bothered her to have a pissed-off Alpha werewolf at her back, she didn’t show it. Didn’t tense. Didn’t peer at him uneasily.
‘You got antivenom?’ All non-werewolves were advised to store it.
‘I already jabbed myself with some. It was the first thing I did when I got inside. Well, after I used magick to make my blood clot.’ She calmly sipped from a steaming cup of what appeared to be chamomile tea.
How she could be calm, he didn’t know. But he was starting to learn that Emberlyn Vautier only overly reacted to things if she wanted to. Her vengeful acts and power displays weren’t about a loss of control; they were generally about sending a message.
A chill swept through the room as a cupboard door flapped open and the mugs inside it began tremoring.
His skin prickling in unease, he glanced at Emberlyn. ‘Are you doing that?’
She spared the ajar door a quick, disinterested glance. ‘Nope. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.’
‘They?’ he echoed, but she didn’t elaborate. He looked at his brother, who puffed out an unnerved breath.
‘You really didn’t need to come, Ripper,’ she said, setting her cup down on the table. A whole array of things were spread across the surface, including a knife, roller, cutting board, mortar and pestle. She also had stoppered jars of various substances, including herbs, salt, leaves, flower petals and what looked to be . . . charcoal?
‘I wanted to.’ Ripper rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension there. He moved so that his front was mere inches from her side. ‘What are you making?’
‘A healing poultice.’ She crushed a leaf between her fingertips. ‘It’ll disinfect the wounds, ease the pain and speed up the healing process.’