Midnight Wolf (Shifters Unbound #11)(11)
He drove to the river and turned onto a highway that ran alongside it. They weren’t far from New Orleans now, which meant not far from Shifter Bureau. Tamsin would have to act soon.
The alligator’s teeth had gone right into her wrist, tearing flesh, muscle, and tendons down to the bone. Tamsin couldn’t move anything from the elbow down, so who knew what had been shattered. The blood continued to seep out, turning the towel bright red.
She knew she needed more help than a bandage and a Shifter’s natural ability to heal quickly, but she hid the pain and kept singing, tapping her foot to a rocking beat.
Angus remained quiet. Every line of him was tight with rage, but Tamsin sensed the fear behind it. Shifter Bureau must have some kind of mighty hold on him. She could work with that.
She started screeching lead guitar, but got no response from Angus other than more irritated looks. He left the main highway and drove down a winding road past warehouses and river dockyards. After about five miles—Tamsin kept careful track of where they were—he turned through an open gate of rusting wrought iron and went slowly along a lane under an arch of ancient-looking giant oaks.
Tamsin peered around in surprise, her singing trailing off. The darkness parted as they reached the end of the drive, and moonlight illuminated a house towering above them. Big. Old, with trees around it, vines fluttering over pale brick.
Angus drove all the way to the porch steps and shut off the engine and the lights.
“This isn’t Shifter Bureau,” Tamsin said. They favored square, anonymous, sterile office buildings.
“No kidding.”
Angus took the keys out of the ignition and closed them in his big hand, as though again fearing Tamsin would grab them, shove him out the driver’s side, and take off. If Tamsin wasn’t hurting so bad, she just might.
Because her door had no inside handle, she had to wait for Angus to come around and let her out. The window was an old-fashioned crank-down kind—no electronics in this old tank—but she couldn’t get her good hand around to roll it down.
Angus yanked open the door, reached in, and hauled her out, careful not to touch her injured arm. What a guy.
He took her up the porch steps to a wide veranda filled with rocking chairs and a porch swing—a lovely place to sit on a summer day with a mint julep and watch the world go by. Tamsin wanted to find out how to make a mint julep just to sit on this beautiful porch with one.
On the other hand, her fox did not want her to go into that house, which Angus unlocked with a key he took from under a flowerpot. The vibes were making her fur itch.
“Don’t tell me you live here.” Tamsin peered at the glossy painted door with stained-glass sidelights and then up at the hanging porch lamp that looked new. The lamp swung a bit, though there was no wind. “Collared Shifters are allowed to live in giant plantation houses now, are they? Dark, creepy ones?”
“Belongs to a friend,” Angus said, his words clipped. “I look in on it for her.”
“Her. Oh, very interesting.” She shot him a knowing glance, which only earned her another scowl.
Tamsin didn’t know why she was bothering with nonchalance. Angus was Shifter—he must have already scented she was a terrified pile of mush under her bravado.
So, why wasn’t he browbeating her or laughing maniacally, maybe evilly rolling his hands and saying things like “You’re in for it now, my pretty”?
Instead, Angus looked angry as hell that he was doing this. He’d brought her to a place that didn’t belong to Shifter Bureau, but it must belong to a human—Collared Shifters weren’t allowed to own property. Tamsin wasn’t wrong when she said the situation was interesting.
Angus rattled the key in the lock, cursing under his breath. The door remained closed.
“Having trouble?” Tamsin asked brightly. “Maybe your girlfriend changed the locks. She’s sending you a signal.”
“Fucking hell.” Angus stood back and glared at the door. “Just let me in.”
The lock clicked. Tamsin’s cheeky words ran out as the door slowly opened, a cold draft of wind pouring at them from inside.
No one was behind the door. Angus grabbed Tamsin by her good arm and hauled her into the house. A flick of switches flooded the downstairs hall with light.
The old house was in excellent repair, with varnished wooden panels, solid doors, and modern lights made to look vintage. Carved and polished chairs and inlaid tables stood along the hall, the tables filled with trinkets and vases of colorful silk flowers.
Someone with wealth and taste lived in this house—so what was a tamed Shifter from a Shiftertown doing freely entering it?
Angus led Tamsin into a bathroom that was tucked under the stairs and shoved her down onto the closed toilet lid. He rummaged in a tall, narrow cabinet next to the sink and brought out bandages, gauze, and antiseptic.
Tamsin flinched at the sight of them, knowing what was coming would hurt.
Angus snapped on the water in the sink, lifted Tamsin to her feet, peeled away the now bloody towel, and eased her hurt arm under the stream.
She was right—it hurt like hell. Tamsin sucked in a breath, and Angus, concern in his eyes, gently sloshed water over the wound. He touched her so carefully his fingers barely brushed her torn skin.
Once the blood was washed away, Angus ripped open a packet of gauze, soaked it in the antiseptic, and gingerly touched the gauze to her torn skin.