“What’s the prognosis?” one of the other men, who could have been Chris Hemsworth’s twin, spoke to Dr. Cooper.
Drew shot her a worried glance and then shrugged. “Normally, I could give you a definitive answer, but this is a… special situation.”
Lucy’s gaze bopped from one man to another, trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about. They kept looking at her, but she was no victim. Unless… They couldn’t be talking about Charlie biting her, could they? Dear Lord, these people took a kid biting someone way too seriously. Some children were just biters at certain ages. Charlie just had a behavioral problem to sort out.
As the thought flitted through her fevered brain, the rascal in question peeked around the corner of the lodge. All the men were oblivious of the boy’s presence, but Lucy caught his eye. She smiled and gave him a flirty little wink, bringing a big grin to his face. Then Mason turned to see what she was staring at and Charlie disappeared.
Cute kid. If her own kid turned out half as sweet, caring, and rambunctious as Charlie, she’d be thrilled. A vision of her lying in bed, holding her newborn baby while Mason wrapped his arms around them both shocked her back to reality. She had no idea where the image had come from, but this was no time to be fantasizing about a happily ever after. Not with a man she didn’t really like, much less actually know.
“We can discuss it later,” Mason growled at the men, taking a step forward.
The three men didn’t budge, effectively barring the way inside the lodge. Mason’s sudden movement caused Lucy’s vision to swirl. She clutched at his bicep, barely even noticing how bulging and big it felt under her fingers—barely.
“Lucy!” Mason cried out and the next thing she knew she hung limply in his arms. She hardly had the strength to twine her arms around his neck. How very damsel in distress, she thought with a snort.
“Out of the way,” Mason demanded, pushing past the men whether they liked it or not. Their glares said they were definitely in the “not” category.
“We need answers, Mason,” one of them spoke—Lucy couldn’t tell which with her faced pressed into Mason’s neck.
“You’ll get them, just not right now.” Mason’s growling voice felt way too good. All snarly and vibrating and yummy.
Lucy wanted to call them all assholes—couldn’t they see she was sick?—but speaking required energy and she had precious little.
The most she could handle was to loll her head around and take a peek at Mason’s home. Beautiful handmade log furniture decorated the place, giving it a welcome, homey feel. Several couches and dozens of chairs created a huge seating area, which puzzled her. Either Mason lived with a bunch of his relatives or he lived in a hotel.
Heavy footfalls on wooden floors reverberated against wooden walls until Mason kicked open a wooden door. His distinct scent hit her stronger than a room full of fragrant roses. It suffused the air and seemed to be embed in every inch of the space. He’d obviously carried her to his bedroom. He tucked her under his covers, and she almost fainted from his heady, woodsy musk. She didn’t understand how this stranger could make her… want. When he pressed his lips to her forehead, Lucy had the sudden urge to tilt her head back until their lips met. The kiss would be hesitant at first but it wouldn’t take them long to dive into the growing desire that existed between them.
The thudding of multiple pairs of feet broke the spell, drawing Mason’s attention from her and to the room’s entry. He stood in front of her, legs spread and arms crossed. The three men from the porch stopped at the doorway, and Mason took a threatening step forward.
“Not another inch.” There he went with the growling thing again.
The one who looked to be the leader of the trio clenched his jaw and gave Mason a dark look. “Don’t fight us on this, Mason. We’re the National—”
“I know you’re the fucking National Circle, but I’m the fucking alpha of the Blackwood pack and I will not have three unmated alphas in here with my mate!”
Squinting hard at Mason’s increasingly blurry back, Lucy replayed his last words in her head, just to make sure she’d heard them correctly. Alpha? Pack? Mate? Who was his mate? Her?
What the everloving fuck?
Lucy tried to sit up a little, shifting her weight and begging her muscles to comply. She groaned at the rush of pain that came with the movement, but she was determined to ask them what the hell they were talking about. Drew chose that moment to appear at her side and pressed a cool hand to her blazing forehead. He frowned and then turned to Mason and jerked his head toward the doorway. Mason gave her one last glance before herding the three men down the hallway, closing the door in his wake.
Drew reached for the gauze she’d wrapped around her leg after her shower, tugging on the material and yanking a hiss from her mouth. “Fuck that hurts.”
“I know,” Drew soothed, “but I need to check out your wound.”
Lucy ground her teeth to stop herself from sounding like a big baby over a little bite. She kept her eyes focused on the wooden ceiling, counting the knots in the wood as a distraction. Only when Drew gasped did she look down at her leg and sucked in a harsh breath to match his. What’d been a few gouges was now a throbbing purple and red gash.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “This morning it was just… Is this because I jumped out of the truck?”
Drew ignored her as he pressed the edges of the angry injury. Air whistled between her teeth with each new wave of agony, but she didn’t cry out again. She managed to remain silent. Barely.
He continued to poke and prod, eyes scanning the twisted wound. Finally, he looked up at her, a grave expression in his grey eyes. “I need to grab a few instruments.” Drew abandoned her and went to the door. “Don’t move, okay?”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and immediately falling into a drowsy state.
Mason’s voice filtered through the wall behind her, barely audible at first, though it grew louder with each passing second. Strange because it seemed as if he was trying to whisper. The more she listened, the more clearly she could hear his voice—but not the others. She wondered how her hearing could be so strong when the content of the conversation blew away all other concerns.
“If you’re not here about the fire, why are you here?”
The other men’s voices mumbled so quietly she could barely pick them out, but then Mason’s burst in her head like a bullhorn.
“A tip? What kind of tip? About what?”
More murmurs, and then Mason cursed so loudly she winced.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Frank-fucking-Riverson set fire to our pack lands, but you’re here to investigate an illegal change?”
Lucy didn’t care that she couldn’t hear the others. Mason’s words were still pinging around inside her brain. Werewolf?
“For fuck’s sake, it was an accident! Do you really think I sic one of my own pack’s pups on a human woman just to grow our numbers? Who called in that tip?”
Pack? Pup? Human woman?
If Lucy had thought her heart was racing before… No, she couldn’t have possibly heard correctly. The only answer was that she was delusional. That had to be it because she sure as shit wasn’t listening to four grown men talking about being werewolves!
Lucy didn’t hear Drew approach, but she sensed his presence. When he reached toward her leg, she shot her hand out and locked onto his wrist in a death grip. Only then did she open her eyes to stare into his surprised face.
“Drew, please don’t think I’m crazy, okay?”
His brow pulled together in a frown. “Okay.”
“Do you know…” She paused and listened hard to make sure the lunatics in the next room were still babbling at each other. “Mason and those other guys… they all think they’re… werewolves?”