War of Hearts(24)

And I need to stop staring at the half-naked, angry werewolf. “Okay. Well … I’ll go get your rucksack so you can change out of those bloody jeans.”

Afterward she left Conall to dress in the bathroom and she wandered outside. There really were no other cars in sight. Just Conall’s.

It would have to do for now.

Stepping back inside the motel room, Thea halted as Conall came out of the bathroom. His height caused a logistical problem for her next move.

Although his color hadn’t fully returned to normal, the wolf was looking much stronger. She didn’t know if she could take him in a fight when he was at full strength, which was more than a little concerning. As if he’d read her mind, he cut her an expressionless look. “You should have left me to die, lass.”

“Probably. I guess I’m just going to have to take the chance you were bluffing.”

He frowned and opened his mouth to question her, but Thea had already made her move.

Before he could comprehend it, she was on the bed behind him and reaching for his head before his weakened reflexes could catch up.

The crack of his neck echoed around the room, causing a sick lurch in Thea’s stomach.

For some reason, stupid tears stung her eyes as she watched his body hit the ground with an almighty thud. Why should she care? It wasn’t like he was dead. She’d knocked him out. For … however long he took to heal.

And he had stuck her with that goddamn injection.

Speaking of …

Thea jumped off the mattress, avoiding Conall’s body. Earlier when she’d been treating his wounds, she’d spied the syringes in the first aid kit. Grabbing them, Thea hurried out of the motel room and toward the fields beyond. Quickly she dug a hole with her bare hands and buried the syringes. Hurrying back, she avoided staring at Conall because he looked very much dead.

She grabbed his wallet and as she took his money, leaving him his credit cards, a folded-up photograph caught her attention. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled it out. Smoothing her fingers across the picture, she spotted who she thought was Conall only to realize it wasn’t. The man who looked like him was standing next to a much younger Conall, and Thea deduced it was his father. The younger Conall had his arm around the waist of a small, redheaded girl buried into his side. And beside the man she’d mistaken for Conall was a beautiful redheaded woman.

Was this Conall and his family?

They were standing on a rocky beach, a beautiful lake and mountains behind them.

Thea wondered which one of them was sick. Which of these people was he willing to sacrifice her for?

Memories of her own parents swelled in her throat, burning and screaming to get out. But Thea shoved them back down as she shoved the photograph into his wallet.

There were times she pulled those memories out and let herself swim in the pain because it was worth it to remember the happy moments.

But now was not the time.

With a ruthless supernatural sure to wake up from a broken neck wanting to kill her, and some unknown entity out there hunting her too, now was very much the time to go.





In the darkness came the pain. It cut through, awakening him, until he laid immobilized by what felt like a sword through his neck.

He drowned in confusion, the agony making it hard to swim out. But there, a glimmer on the surface, was the memory.

She’d broken his neck.

Conall’s current awareness told him he was already healing and knitting back together, but an injury like this could take time if he just laid there.

No. He’d have to shift to accelerate the painful healing process. He didn’t want anyone to find him like this. And he had a brat to hunt.

He pushed the shift, unconsciousness threatening as he strained his injuries, attempting to feel the first tingle of transformation. Finally, he felt it in his fingertips, his growls garbled and low in his ears as he forced himself to continue through the misery. Usually shifting was akin to stretching his body after hours of being cramped in one position.

Not today.

Today it was like fire scoring down his spine.

Still, it had to be done.

His muscles burned, his bones cracked. Fur pierced through his skin like goosebumps.

And then as his spine changed, as the wolf took over, he almost blacked out from the pain as his neck snapped back into place.

After a few seconds of panting, he opened his eyes and took in the room as a wolf. Despite the darkness of night, he could see better than in his human form, especially in his peripheral. He could hear the traffic of the motorway in the distance as if it ran right outside the room.

Stretching, he finally stood on all fours and gave a breathy huff.

The small room was empty except for his rucksack.

Smelling blood, he turned toward the bathroom and saw the floor tiles smeared with his from the bullet wounds. That would need cleaning up before he left. Sniffing around the room, he caught her scent on the first aid kit and bared his teeth, a growl rumbling from his belly.

Padding across the room, his nose to the ground, he could smell her everywhere.

He stared at his tattered clothes on the floor and then at the room’s closed door. If it were up to him, he’d take off after her like this. He’d knock out the motel room door like a battering ram and run along the motorway to get to her. Unfortunately, it was too dangerous.

With one last snarl, he pushed on the shift. This time it was far more pleasant.