The Savage Grace: A Dark Divine Novel(41)

I wrapped my arms around his naked chest, shuddering against his hot skin. Never wanting to let go.

But then he cried out in pain and pulled away. I noticed a bright red, blistering welt against the taut muscles of his left shoulder—where the silver bullet had pierced his flesh. He shuddered, his body convulsing, and he cried so sharply, I knew he suffered from a pain much greater than just that of the bullet wound. As if his insides were under threat of being torn apart. More shouts sounded in the background. Coming closer. Was someone on our trail? I reached out to steady Daniel’s shaking body, but he slipped through my grasp and collapsed to the ground.

It took every ounce of my will not to howl a scream as I stared down at Daniel, lying in the mud so still, as if he were dead.





Chapter Eighteen


FEVER


A FEW MINUTES PASSED

He was hot. So very, very hot. Even in the cool rain, the heat radiating off his skin against my body made me sweat as I propelled him toward home. It felt like he was burning up in a fever of nuclear proportions. His shallow breathing scared me, and his body quaked with a seizurelike shudder every few minutes. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, but I knew I had to get him to safety. He’d regained himself only enough to stand. With his arms draped around my shoulders, leaning his weight into my side, I was able to walk, drag, and carry him—depending on his ability to put one foot in front of the other—through the rest of the forest. I wanted to pass out with exhaustion by the time I reached the back fence of our yard. I don’t know how I mustered up any more supernatural strength to hoist him over it.

I stashed the two rifles under my back porch—I’d been too afraid to leave them in the forest for those hunters to find—then carried Daniel into the house. His body was slick with mud and still just as burning hot. He moaned softly and slid out of my grasp onto the linoleum kitchen floor.

How could he withstand a fever this high?

Suddenly, I wished my mother, the nurse, was here. Not that she’d be too keen about my naked boyfriend lying on her kitchen floor—but she’d know better than I did what to do for someone so sick. I had to bring down his temperature as quickly as possible, but I doubted a couple of ibuprofen were going to help.

I grunted from exertion as I picked him up again and carried him to the upstairs bathroom. I sat him in the tub and draped a hand towel over his … um, middle … and then turned on the faucet. I let a rush of cold water pour down on his legs. I tested the temperature. Colder than the rain outside when it left the faucet, but it warmed up quickly as it came into contact with his hot skin. I ran downstairs and grabbed the entire bucket of ice from the freezer’s ice maker and brought it back upstairs.

“Don’t hate me for this,” I said to Daniel as I dumped the ice on top of him. He groaned and his eyes half opened for a moment—at least he was still conscious. Steam curled up in wisps from his skin.

The blistered welt on his shoulder was caked with mud. I didn’t want it to get infected, so I washed my own hands and arms and then scooped up handfuls of the now-cooler water and drizzled it over his shoulder. Then I grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it up. As gently as I could, I carefully scrubbed his shoulder. He winced with pain as my fingers brushed over the tender wound. As I washed away the grime, I found a second welt on the back side of his shoulder. An exit wound—the bullet had passed clean through his arm. Both wounds looked like they’d been cauterized by the burning reaction of silver meeting werewolf flesh. It looked painful as hell, but at least I didn’t have to worry about his bleeding to death.

I worked the soap down both of his arms and then across his back and then down his chest—trying all the time not to linger on the thought of how much bigger everything about his body was now. Daniel had always been well cut, but with a slighter build. However, his muscles were larger now than I remembered, firmer. Even his jaw and cheekbones were better defined. Everything about him was perfectly shaped, like Adonis himself lay in my bathtub.

After I finished washing his body, I lathered shampoo into his hair and washed away what was left of the week he’d lived in the woods. As I leaned over him to brush his now clean, wet, hair off his forehead, he lifted his hand and touched my arm.

He opened his deep dark eyes and stared into mine for a moment. “Thank you,” he said quietly through chattering teeth. He closed his eyes again, convulsing with a shiver.

I clasped my hand over his forehead and realized his skin felt positively frigid now, even though the ice in the water had long melted away.

Had I done something wrong?

I took a moment to change into clean yoga pants and a cami, and threw my dirty clothes into the washer with a heaping scoop of detergent to destroy the muddy evidence. Then I fetched a pair of pajamas from Jude’s unused room for Daniel. He let me help him into the flannel pajama pants, but he refused the flannel shirt. “Don’t want to overheat again,” he said through his pale blue lips. I wondered if kissing them would help him warm up. Instead, I draped a dry towel over his shoulders and led him to my bed. He barely made it before his legs gave out from under him.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” I said as I tucked him under my bedspread. “Maybe I should go for help.” Leaving him was the last thing I wanted to do, but if he needed more help…

“No,” he said, grasping my hand tight. “Please stay with me.”