War of Hearts(42)

“We didn’t do it.” Thea ignored the aching pang in her chest. “Those asshole female wolves did it. As for us, we need to move, yes. But first I have to stop somewhere with a bathroom. And I need time.”

“Why?” He halted, turning to her.

Anyone else might have been intimidated at the way he towered over her, his expression forbidding, his scar stark against his tan cheeks.

Thea was too pissed to be intimidated.

The bastard hadn’t even thanked her for saving his goddamn life.

“Because one of the bullets I took for you is still lodged in my back and I need time to get it out.”

His scowl deepened. “I can do it.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought. “Uh … no thanks.” She swerved around him and kept walking. “This sign says there’s a hotel somewhere.”

Conall didn’t argue. “Fine, but we cannae stay long.”

“You can go out and find either a bus station or a car while I deal with the bullet.”

The rest of their walk was silent as the wolf stewed at her side. The accommodation turned out to be a stone-built hotel on the outskirts of town. It was quaint and far nicer than Thea would have preferred. People who ran nice hotels paid attention to their customers.

The owner looked terrified of Conall, and Thea cursed him for being so easily recognizable.

“It’s like trying to hide a T. rex behind a MINI Cooper,” she grouched as they walked down the red-carpeted corridor to their room.

“Well, if you’d let me help you with the bloody bullet back at the house, we wouldnae be here, showing my scarred face to potential witnesses,” he snapped back.

She frowned. “It’s not your scar that’s the problem. It’s your size.” She led them into the room. It was small with two tiny twin beds they, unfortunately, wouldn’t be using.

And an even smaller bathroom.

Instead of leaving to see about transportation, Conall insisted on waiting while Thea got the bullet out. She stood in the cramped bathroom, feeling him too close to her on the other side of the door, wishing he’d get the hell out of the room so she could muddle along by herself.

Pulling her shirt up and over her head, she glanced at her back in the mirror, reached behind her to rip off the bandage, and then opened the first aid kit for the forceps.

Angling her arm this way and that, Thea could touch the bullet hole with the medical scissors, but she couldn’t seem to stretch quite enough to dig in.

Grunting, she was determined to do it.

But try as she might, she could not get the goddamn bullet.

Frustration got the better of her and she let out a low growl.

“For fuck’s sake”—the door flew open—“let me see the—” Conall slammed to a halt as his eyes drifted down her bare back.

Thea’s stomach pitched, nausea welling inside her as the wolf gobbled up the sight of her in all her messed-up glory.





Conall could hear Thea struggling inside the bathroom and it was pissing him off. His mind hadn’t stopped racing since the car accident.

First there was the guilt of involving innocent civilians in the hunt, and of then having to leave the wee lass and her broken parents behind. But protecting his world, his pack, was the priority, even if it made him feel like the biggest wanker on the planet.

As for Thea …

Conall considered himself a good judge of character but walking through the small German town with Thea by his side, he questioned everything she’d done in the last hour.

Why had she gone back for the little girl in the car and then risked a lot of pain to save the girl’s father?

Why had she shoved Conall out of the way of the spray of silver bullets and taken five shots to the back in the process?

Was it all some grand manipulation to win him to her side?

And even if it was … fuck, he’d never met anyone as tough as this woman.

Hearing her struggle to get the last bullet out pricked at Conall’s guilt. Manipulation or not, she’d saved his life, and it pissed him off she wouldn’t let him help her in return.

Finally, when she let out a low growl of frustration, Conall’s patience died. If she was afraid of him seeing her seminaked, she needed to get over it. They had to get the hell out of this place in case the little girl gave their description to the authorities.

“For fuck’s sake,” he snapped, pushing into the bathroom, “let me see the—” His words cut off at the sight before him.

Thea stood at the small bathroom sink, shirtless, with her arm twisted up her back, a bloody pair of medical scissors fisted in her hand. It wasn’t the seeping, inflamed bullet hole in the middle of her upper back that shocked him into silence.

Conall’s gut twisted as he took in the mass of scars that crisscrossed Thea’s slender back. It looked as though someone had taken a whip to her. Brutally. Many, many times.

Confused, he shook his head, trying to make sense of it. Thea’s healing abilities were second-to-none … What could have caused permanent damage?

He thought of his own scar, created by a wolf’s one weakness.

Silver.

So what was Thea’s weakness?

The black concoction in the syringes came to mind.

The syringes Ashforth had given him.

An unexpected rage began to build in Conall as he lifted his gaze from evidence of abuse on Thea’s back to the horror that darkened her eyes to black. “How did this happen?”