10. Morgan

Chapter 10

Morgan

Eric's grin was too wide, his teeth pointed like fangs, and his eyes flashed red in the artificial light. The light glinted off a scalpel in his hand, and with dawning horror, I watched as he leaned over the man I loved, who was restrained to a metal table with wide leather straps.

"Now, why don't we cut him open and see what makes him tick," Eric said, leering over his shoulder at me. "Don't worry, it'll only hurt for a moment."

My whimper seemed loud in the small space, growing smaller by the second as the walls closed in. "No, please. Don't hurt him!" I shouted, struggling to move, but my body wouldn't obey my commands. It was like I was drugged, and no matter how much I tried to thrash, I was little more than a mannequin .

My wolfman turned to look at me, his eyes wide and fearful. His mouth moved as he said something to me, but no sound came out. "What?" I asked, trying to read the movement of his lips. "I can't hear you."

"I said wake up!" Then he tilted his head back and screamed an inhuman howl as blood spilled off the table onto the floor.

I sat up, gasping, my heart hammering inside my chest, tears spilling down my cheeks. The sheets were damp with my sweat and tangled around me like I'd been flopping around in my sleep. "It was just a dream, he's okay," I said to reassure myself, but part of me was still trapped in the nightmare. I remembered the blood, the feeling of helplessness as Eric hurt the man I'd chosen to love.

My stomach clenched painfully, and I tumbled out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, thinking I was going to hurl. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and sobbed, my body shaking with big heaving breaths. After a few minutes, what little I had in my stomach settled, and I reached up and gripped the edge of the counter and pulled myself up.

I met the eyes looking back at me from the reflection in the mirror and flinched. I was a wreck. I had deep shadows under my eyes, my skin a pasty white. I looked haunted. I flipped on the tap and scooped up handfuls of water to splash over my face. The cold water brought a sense of reality to me, but not in the way I would've expected.

The dream began to fade, but in its place was a very real sense of purpose. Yes, I was aware that dreams did not always (or ever, really) reflect reality, but it was also a space where our brains worked out problems that needed to be fixed. The message I was receiving loud and clear was that my wolf was in danger. Eric wanted to find him, and I wasn't sure the lengths to which he would go to achieve that goal. He was apparently willing to follow and corner me. Maybe he was outside even now, with binoculars to look in my window!

I needed to get back to the woods fast. My wolfy needed me. I knew it, as surely as I knew I needed air to breathe. It didn't matter if it was cold or if I had camping gear or not. I had to believe I would find him—or that he would find me.

On shaky legs, I wobbled back to my bedroom. I snatched my glasses off the bedside table and shoved them on my face. Grabbing clothes from the dresser, I'd barely finished getting dressed when I heard a sound—one that filled my veins with ice. A key was being fit into the lock of my front door. My adrenaline, still lingering close to the surface after the nightmare, surged, and I threw myself behind my bedroom door, slapping a hand over my mouth to keep my gasping breath from giving away my hiding place. Was it Eric? Or maybe it was my landlord, coming to corner me. Neither option was appealing at this very moment.

I listened to the deadbolt flip back, then the door opened and shut heavily. Whoever it was, they weren't trying to be stealthy. I squeezed my eyes shut against the barrage of gruesome images flipping through my imagination. Was the intruder going to rob me? Did they have a weapon? I was suddenly hyperaware that I hadn't emptied my bladder this morning, but I was certainly about to do it right this very second.

There were footsteps headed this way, and a deep grumbling voice that barked, "Why do you stink like fear?"

I frowned, my stress releasing even before I could register whose voice that was. I'd never heard him speak, but somehow, I knew. "Rumpy?"

The door I was hiding behind was wrenched away, and there he was, glaring down at me in all his glowering glory. "What's wrong? Why are you scared? Is there someone else here? Are you in danger?" He was bristling with aggression, thankfully not directed at me. He didn't even wait for an answer, just turned and flung open my closet doors to peek inside, then crouched to look under the bed .

"I—You're—It's—" I tried and failed to say anything coherent as I watched his progress, following behind him as he stormed through every room, searching for some unknown assailant, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked different with clothes on, but I would've recognized that profile anywhere. "You speak English," I said lamely.

"Of course I speak English. Why wouldn't I?" he said from behind the shower curtain he'd pulled back to look inside the tub.

If I'd thought my stress reaction was bad, that was nothing compared to my relief reaction. The adrenaline left my body so quickly that I felt weak as a kitten. I ended up leaning against the wall in the hallway and sliding down until I was seated on the floor. The fear that had been so vivid just minutes ago began to fade. He's here, he's fine, he's okay. He's here !

When he'd checked in every nook and cranny, he came back and crouched down to look me in the eye. "I don't get it. You were afraid, but there's nothing wrong. You're not injured."

"I-I had a nightmare?" I said, though it sounded like a question. I wasn't even sure anymore; maybe I was still sleeping now, because nothing that was happening made any sense .

His eyes softened. "I get nightmares sometimes." I wanted to ask what could possibly frighten a man as strong and dominant as him, but too quickly, shutters were drawn down, hiding that brief peek of vulnerability.

"Why are you here? How? And why do you have a key to my apartment?"

He opened his mouth but shut it again with a clack of his teeth, chewing on his bottom lip. He huffed, frowning. Finally, he said, "You won't like my answers."

"Tell me anyway."

He was apparently saved from answering when my stomach growled. "You're hungry," he said, stating the obvious. "You need to eat." He seemed relieved at the change in topic.

"It can wait—" I began to say, because honestly, I was much more interested in getting some answers, but without warning, he'd scooped me off the floor like I weighed nothing. I gasped and clung to him, fingers digging into his buttoned flannel shirt, as he carried me over to the small table and deposited me gently in one of the chairs.

He paused, his arms still locked around me, his intense heat sinking into my body. We were close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. He smelled divine, and my mouth watered, my heart beating faster for an entirely different reason. It would be so easy to lean in and…

"You have to let go," he said in that deep gravelly voice, interrupting my naughty thoughts.

"Oh! Right. Yes. Haha, that would probably… work better." My cheeks heated, and I forced my hands to loosen their grip on him.

Once I'd let go, he stepped back quickly and turned away, but not before I could've sworn I saw a thick bulge below his belt. He gripped the back of his neck, not looking my way, and I took the opportunity to fan my face, trying to get the blush under control.

He moved through my kitchen as if he knew where everything was. He got out a pot, a can of soup I didn't know I had, and a can opener, picking all the right cupboards and drawers on the first try.

"I knew I should've bought you meat. You need protein," he grumbled, disappearing into the fridge.

I snorted a laugh. Speaking of meat… I knew exactly where I could get some of that protein.

He shot me a look over the top of the fridge door, his nostrils flaring, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. Shifters couldn't read minds, right? Under his intense gaze, I wiggled in my seat, the back of my pants damp with slick.

When he came over and set a glass of milk in front of me, I felt like I was going to explode if I didn't finally ask. " Aren't you going to tell me your name at least? I mean, I could always guess if you wanted. I've compiled quite the list of potential names so far, but none of them feel right. In my head I usually just call you Wolfy or Rumpy, which is short for Rumpelstiltskin. You know, like the fairy tale?" I chuckled awkwardly.

He'd frozen, more like prey than the predator he was. His knuckles went white where he still gripped the glass. How much force could the glass take before it shattered?

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked weakly, caving in on myself. "I'm sorry, I know Rumpy isn't the best choice. I thought it was… cute. Like you." I cleared my throat and pinched my lips tight. Why did I have to talk so much? It always got me into trouble.

The silence went on for so long that I was convinced I would never get to know his name. Finally, he seemed to come to some kind of decision. He closed his eyes and said, "It's Jude. And nothing about me is cute."

"Jude," I echoed breathlessly. He still wasn't looking at me, staring down at the table like all the answers to life's big questions were written on it. "It suits you."

His bright green eyes flicked up to mine, just for one brief second, but that was all it took to catch a glimpse of the whole world behind them. I had this deep yearning to crawl into his lap and just stare into his eyes for hours until I learned all his secrets.

Jude grunted and turned back to the stove to scoop the soup into a bowl. He was all grumpy and broody, and I never would've guessed I'd find closed-off sexy, but damn, it was doing it for me.

"Are we flirting? It feels like we're flirting?" I teased, and though he didn't look at me, I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

When he came back with my food and set it in front of me, he hovered next to me, waiting for me to pick up the spoon and taste it. It was hot enough to burn the tastebuds off my tongue, but I barely noticed, nodding and making a pleased sound so he knew I liked it. "Thank you. I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me."

Satisfied that his job was done, Jude lowered carefully into the chair next to me. He braced himself, as though expecting it to break. When his weight was settled, he blew out a breath. "This isn't cooking," he said. "It's reheating."

"Oh. I guess you're right. Still, I appreciate it. I wasn't even planning to eat this morning."

That statement had his lip curling, revealing the tip of a sharp canine. "You have to take better care of yourself. First the river, then the food and the rent. Saving you from yourself is an impossible job. "

My mouth gaped open as I tried to absorb what he'd said so I could come up with a defense. "I mean, yes, almost drowning was admittedly not my best moment, but accidents happen. But—food? Rent? What are you even talking abou…" I trailed off as I started to connect the dots. I gasped and pointed an accusing finger at him. "You put food in my fridge! I knew I hadn't bought that milk! But what did you mean about my rent? Did you talk to Al? Hang on, did you sleep in my bed? I thought I smelled you on my pillow."

Jude grabbed my finger where I'd started poking him in the chest. From beneath his light beard and tan skin, I swore I saw him blush. "I couldn't just leave you on your own. For all I knew, you were going to trip on the curb and fall into oncoming traffic. And it's a good thing I did show up, because you had no food and you were about to get evicted. Did you know your landlord gave me this key? He didn't even ask for my ID! What if he'd given it to some other stranger? It's not safe for you here."

"I've kept myself alive this long," I grumbled, pouting.

He was still holding my finger, and I kind of hoped he would never let go. "Why aren't you asking about the whole," he gestured vaguely at himself, "wolf thing? Don't you want to know all about it? "

An image from my nightmare flashed across my mind, the length to which Eric would go to find out what made Jude tick. I didn't even hesitate before I shook my head. "I don't care how it works."

He scoffed, eyebrows jumping in the most adorable expression of disbelief. "You don't care?"

I shook my head. "No, not a bit.

I watched as his brows furrowed, his lips tightened, and his eyes flashed as his confusion somehow turned to anger. His grip on me tightened, pulling me into him, and I had to scoot closer to the edge of my seat. "Why don't you care?!" he snapped.

"I-I don't know. From the very first moment I saw you, I just knew you were mine. Your wolf, it's a part of you. Just like your beautiful green eyes or your muscly muscles." I tried to smile reassuringly, but he just scowled harder. "I have so many questions, so much I want to know about you, but the how? Not one of them. If you want to tell me about your wolf, I would love to hear it, but it won't stop me from… well, from loving you," I admitted, shrugging bashfully as I inched closer. "I trust you, Jude."

His eyes widened. "Well, you shouldn't!" he roared, gripping the front of my shirt and jerking me forward the rest of the way, until my hands landed on his chest to keep from falling. "You can't trust anyone! You don't know me. You don't know where I come from. What if I hurt you?"

"You won't," I whispered, and I knew with absolute certainty that it was true.

Jude let out a choked sob, his eyes glassy. "No," he whispered back. "No, I won't."

With a final tug, he brought me into his arms. I barely had time to take a breath before his lips came crashing down on mine. This was no graceful peck on the lips. It was hungry, all bruising force and gnashing teeth, and I gave in with a deep moan.