Lone Wolf (The Wulf Pack Book 1)

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Chapter Four

Rage slipped through the motel door he kicked it closed behind him. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to get his key from his pocket and open the door without waking or dropping the female in his arms.

Stalking over to the bed, he placed her on top of the unmade bed, a bad habit he had always had. Leaving her there he entered the bathroom, flicking on the florescent light, searching for the first aid kit.

He gripped it tightly as he left the bathroom and moved back to the bed.

Gently he rolled her to her side to get a view of one hip, the claw marks were deep and he frowned at the idea of them causing scars, but they had stopped bleeding. He cursed as he noticed the content of the kit, only general size band aids where in there and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, he was just going to have to make do.

Returning to the bathroom he grabbed one of the washcloths and once back next to the bed he pored some peroxide onto it before dabbing it onto the scratches.

He moved slowly, waiting for her to move, or flinch as he made a web of band aid’s, attempting to keep the sticky parts out of the wound, but she didn’t. She stayed sound asleep as he rolled her over and did the same onto her left side. He flinched for her as he pulled the sheet from sticking to her, he knew that if she were awake she would have felt as if he pulled off a fresh scab.

Once both her wounds were covered in makeshift badges, he rolled her onto her back and pulled the covers over her.

He watched as she shifted and snuggled deeper into the blanket, her head tightly pressed into the pillow. He couldn’t help but wonder what this little she-wolf had been through, something told him a lot.

Pulling one of the chairs from the corner of the room, he placed it next to the bed, he had no intention of sleeping with this little she-wolf poised in his bed.

Whining she shifted again pulling the blankets to her nose, her brown waves splaying out across the pillow. He could not deny that she was beautiful, someone he may have pursued if he had been looking for a mate, but he wasn’t, might never.

He watched her silently, studying her. She seemed so innocent and pure. An anger flared in him as he thought of what that Rouge would have done to her if he wouldn’t have been here. If he wouldn’t have decided to stop in this little human town.

He couldn’t help but be surprised as her gold eyes opened.

She woke up to a musky smell surrounding her. One that could only belong to a male. The woodsy undertone told her it was a wolf.

Slowly opening her eyes she found herself in a room painted black, or at least that’s the way it seemed in the dark room.

“You are awake,” stated a rough voice from the other side of the bed. Slowly she sat up and turned toward the voice.

A figure sat in a chair next to the bed. The moon light steaming in through the window behind him made him look like a dream. Was she dreaming?

“Who are you?” She asked trying to be tough as she inhaled trying to find his scent but finding only the one surrounding her.

“I am Rage,” he paused for a moment as if debating on continuing, “Rage Wulf. ”

Her heart dropped into my stomach.

It can’t be.

Sliding back, until she hit the headboard, and kicking off she blankets. A shooting of pain stopped her from moving further causing her to reach for her hips. The bandages on her hips felt like they were made of dozens of smaller ones. Feeling them made reminded her what had happened.

“What do you want with me?” She choked out on the verge of a sob.

“I don’t want anything from you,” the man’s deep voice said as the chair creaked indicating he had stood.

The floor creaked as he moved around the bed and the light flickered on.

Blinking a few time she looked at the man before her, his tall frame and dark hair, was nothing like the man who had grabbed her outside of the bar.

“You’re not...”

“The rouge that attacked you?” he asked as she struggled to say the words, “no I am not.” Her mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to think of what to say as thoughts swarmed her mind.

“I killed him,” was all he said as he moved across the room back to his chair. She watched his large frame move, he reminded her of a cougar as his muscles rippled with every movement and danger seeped from his pores.

She had to remind herself that he was a Wulf, after all, origin of her kind, they say that someone from the Wulf family could kill someone with one swift move and looking at him, she didn’t doubt it at all.

“Why am I here?” she whispered, scared to ask the question. When his eyes rose to meet hers she looked away, the intense stare was unnerving, as if he could see right though her, right into her mind, her soul.

“I am many things, little wolf, but a monster is not one of them,” his deep voice drew her eyes back to his face and his smirk did something to her heart she didn’t understand.

Thoughts swarmed her mind as she looked at the male before her, his features were sharp, she scars covering his bare skin looked almost like artwork, he looked like he had been handcrafted by the gods. His blue eyes drew her in, told of pain, loss and anger beyond anything she could comprehend.

Rage watched as she studied him, wondering if she even realized she was staring, her gold eyes contained a spark of curiosity that tugged at his own. He brown hair was tousled from sleep and no fear ran through her as she looked on. Her features were soft, making him wonder if they were as smooth as they looked. She was undoubtedly beautiful.

Her heart nearly stopped as she noted the glowing of the outside world through the windows behind him. She struggled as she tried to move her small frame from the center of the bed, Rage had the urge to reach out and help her, but thought better of it as he watched her curiously.

“I need to go,” she said, making her way to the side of the bed, “my Alpha will freak if he realizes I...” she paused, looking over at him as she realized she was sharing too much with this male.

“Go, little wolf,” he said, nodding to her. Something about the look of fear on this little she-wolf bothered him. He was use to striking fear into people, that is what he does, but watching her fear him was making him hate who he was, she had no reason to be afraid of him.

She didn’t wait for another word as she ran for the door, her bandages pulling at her skin with each movement. The only thought in her mind was to get out of there, she needed to get out of there and get home, get away from this male that had taken it upon himself to save her from the rouge.

Rage watched her go, she was swift, he would give her that as she ran out the door and surprisingly, shutting it behind her. He yet again wondered what she had been through.

Rage quirked a brow as her sent reached him, he hadn’t noticed it before, not over the rusty smell of her blood, but now that she was gone he smelled it, the sweet smell of apples, like an apple orchard in fall. Why hadn’t he noticed before? He had been holding her for gods sake.

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