Chapter 7

7

Tami

I roll onto my side, my face pressing into the pillow. When did this stiff bed get so comfortable? I yawn hard and stretch, memories from last night hitting me like a freight train.

Climbing out of my window, down the emergency ladder, driving through the city, begging the police, taking I-75 north, losing control of my car, flipping off the road. My eyes snap open.

I sit up, my vision clearing. This is not my room. Panic sets in as I look down at my clothes. I'm wearing a nightdress, not the one I had on. My hand flies to my forehead, recalling the impact of my head hitting the steering wheel.

I should be in pain, or worse, but I feel fine—better than ever. The light of a setting sun peeks through the curtains. How long have I been out? Who saved me?

I scan the enormous bed and the large room, fully furnished and nicely decorated. Dressers, nightstands with lamps, everything is unfamiliar .

Where am I? Who changed my clothes? Even my panties are different. I hear heavy footsteps approaching the door. Panic rises. I slide off the bed, my legs wobbly, and drop to the floor, hiding under the bed.

My hands curl into fists. I bite down on my lip, nearly breaking the skin. My body shakes as the footsteps stop at the door. It creaks open. My eyes widen at the sight of massive chocolate-toned feet stepping in, each step heavy, shaking the floor.

The footsteps stop, and a low unnatural growl escapes the creature as it sees the empty bed. I gasp, clapping my hand over my mouth, holding my breath as the footsteps move closer. Tears well up as the figure turns, its heels right at the edge of the bed. It sits down on the mattress.

“Tamera,” he says, his voice thick and rough, “either you come out from under the bed, or I lift it and pull you out myself.”

I sigh, my body trembling at the sound of my name. It’s a shifter. How much trouble am I in? He groans, not moving from the bed, but I can hear his irritation.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Tamera. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I brought you something to eat. And I’d like to check your wounds to make sure you’re healing. You were on the verge of death when I found you.”

I swallow hard and start to crawl out from under the bed. His large hands grip my waist as soon as I’m halfway out. I yelp. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, my feet dangling. He plops me onto his lap, and I find myself staring straight into his eyes.

I gasp.

His skin is a deep brown, enhancing his strong features. His hair is short and neatly trimmed. A messy beard frames his chiseled jawline. He has a muscular, well-defined body with broad shoulders.

The man’s eyes are a striking green, almost like emeralds, with no pupils. They look unnatural, a dead giveaway that he's not human. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt, unbuttoned over a snug white tee. His jeans fit well, emphasizing his solid build.

My mouth falls open.

He frowns slightly and cups my chin with his large hand, examining me closely. He smells like the forest—pine and fresh wood. I relax a bit. His hand is rough against my skin as he tilts my face, checking me over with focused eyes.

“You’re healing well,” he says. His breath smells like mint and pine, making me feel light-headed.

“Wha—what?” I stammer, staring up at him. He smiles, showing perfect white teeth. His canines are sharp, more pronounced. I swallow nervously.

“What were you running from, Tamera?” he asks, pulling me from my daze. My name brings back memories, always spoken with irritation. I push against his hard chest, but it’s like pushing steel.

“It’s Tami,” I snap, trying to free myself. He doesn’t let go, just stares at me for a moment, then smiles.

“Finally,” he says, pleased. He chuckles. “I suppose Tami will do for now, but I’d prefer to call you my little kitten. You’re feisty; I can smell it on you.” I push at his chest again, and he laughs.

“You are not calling me your little kitten. And I’m not feisty,” I snap, pushing at him again. “Now will you let me go, please? I’m fine.”

He lifts me from his lap and places me beside him on the edge of the bed. Turning, he pulls a tray full of food onto his large lap. I quickly climb off the bed, my legs still wobbly as I steady myself. He glares at my sudden movement.

“Get back in bed, kitt—I mean, Tami,” he says, correcting himself. “You still need to rest. Your body hasn’t fully recovered yet.” I shake my head and scan the bedroom for my belongings. He must have retrieved them from my car since I’m in a different nightdress from the one I wore the night before.

“Where are my things? How bad is my car? I need to find my phone to call my insurance company,” I say, looking around the room.

His hand grabs my wrist, yanking me back onto the bed. I land roughly on my back, the mattress bouncing under me.

“What the hell!” I snap, trying to sit up, but he pushes me back down.

“I said, your body needs to rest.” His dominant tone makes me stiffen. The last thing I want to do is anger this man. As soon as he feels my body relax against the mattress, he removes his hand from my belly. I sit up slowly, scooting away from him. He places the tray in front of me.

“I didn’t know what you like to eat, so I had Kade bring a little bit of everything,” he says.

“Who’s Kade?” I ask, grabbing a slice of toast and realizing I’m starving.

“She’s the sheriff of Wintermoon.”

“So, the sheriff knows I’m here. Why am I not in town or a hospital? I shouldn’t be here in this cabin—“ He raises his hand to stop me.

“The best place for you to be is with me,” he snaps. I shut my mouth and look at the tray of food. It’s overloaded with pancakes, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and toast. Next to the plate are eating utensils and two glasses—one filled with orange juice and the other with milk. I grab the milk and chug it down.

“There are some things we need to discuss,” he says. I finish the milk, place the glass back on the tray, and wipe my mouth.

“What is your name?” I ask.

He smiles. “My name is Kane—I’m a wolf shifter of the Zorah pack.” His green eyes lock onto mine, staring into my soul.

I don’t understand why I feel so drawn to this mysterious shifter. It’s as if I was meant to be here.

So strange.