Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(41)

Her light blue eyes hinted that she worried he was part of Della’s rough day.

“Thanks, I’ll run by her cabin.”

“Or just let her sleep,” she said.

“I just want to check on her.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

You mean other than me being worried about her cozying up with Steve? “No.”

Walking away, he did one loop around the fire, moving in and out of the groups of people, hoping to spot Steve alone, or better yet with another girl hanging on him.

But the shape-shifter wasn’t around. Were he and Della together?

Chase took off for Della’s cabin. He landed on the porch. He tilted his head to see if he could hear anyone inside. Just a cat meowing. Then a scent hit. His nostrils flared. Blood.

And not just any blood.

Della’s.

He grabbed the doorknob and shot inside. The door hit the wall with a thud. His eyes burned and his canines extended when the scent of blood grew stronger. A quick glance around and he noted the lamps on the end tables were turned over, a couple of the kitchen chairs were downed. There had been a fight here. And considering it was Della’s blood, his heart jolted in his chest.

He shot into Della’s bedroom. Nothing looked out of place. Whatever had happened must’ve been contained to the living room.

He went back there. A growl left his lips when he spotted drops of blood on the floor by the door. He moved outside, where he spotted more blood splatter by the steps.

Fueled by fury, and fear, he took off to follow the trail of Della’s blood.





Chapter Eighteen

The blood led Chase through the woods. The thought that he should call Burnett and get help was countered by the thought of not wasting a second before finding her.

He ran through the brush, not caring when he got caught by a thorny bush. After about a minute he realized that unless the trail changed, he’d come out at cabin fourteen. His cabin.

Had Della been hurt and gone looking for him? The thought of her needing him and not being able to find him sent another jolt of pain through his chest.

He suddenly cleared the woods and could see the light on in his cabin. He hadn’t turned a light on. Someone had been there. Or was there.

Shooting forward, he caught her scent, still mixed with her blood. Then he heard her say, “I’m gonna kill you. I am.”

Who was she going to kill? Not that she had to; he’d do it for her. Too panicked to check for another scent, he bolted up the stairs and swung open his door, ready to defend her.

She swung around. She had on a bloody white tank top and a pair of pajama bottoms. Baxter sat in front of her.

“What happened?” he asked, his heart thumping against his rib cage.

“You happened,” she seethed.

He stood there, the roaring panic that had tightened his muscles slowly fading. “Me?”

“Yes, you let Buster loose. And he ends up at my cabin.”

Chase hadn’t let the dog out, but … He blinked and again noted the blood on her white tank top. Then he glanced at Baxter sitting at Della’s feet, his tail slowly swishing back and forth, his head hanging a little low. Definitely his guilty pose.

Was she saying…? “Baxter would never hurt you.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, but a cat is another question.”

Chase shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t hurt a cat. He loves cats. Eddie had one and they were best buddies. He used to pick it up and carry it around in his mouth.”

“Well, I guess Socks isn’t fond of a canine set of chops coming at her, even if it is for a joy ride.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“Baxter showed up at my cabin. I forgot about Socks and I let him in. I went to get my pajamas on and hell broke loose. Baxter had Socks cornered. Socks ran. Baxter chased. They ransacked the cabin. And before I caught the cat, the cat caught me. She clawed her way up me to get away from your dog.”

Chase frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?” She pointed to her shirt. “I was used as a climbing post.”

“Bad Baxter,” Chase said.

“No!” Della seethed.

“You’re right,” Chase said. “It was the cat who did it.”

“No! You’re the one who didn’t put your dog up.”

“I did put him up.” Chase inhaled and realized the stench of paint was stronger. “I bet the painters came and let him out.”

“Oh, yeah, blame it on the painters!” she snarled.

“I’m not.” He bit back his laughter. Even covered in blood, she looked adorable in her pajamas. The white tank, with the word “princess” written across it in pink, hugged her chest and showcased her breasts perfectly. It also fit against her waist. And her white bottoms had little pink crowns printed on them. They were a little big, and hung just low enough to expose a little flat belly. She looked sexy as hell.

He walked closer, pushing back the sexy thoughts, because now wasn’t the time, and concentrated on the blood. “Have you cleaned the wounds?”

“No, I had to get him out of the cabin. And because I care more about him than his owner does, I wasn’t going to just let him run loose. There are wolves out there.”

“I’m sorry. Let me help you clean the wounds.”