Page 6 of Mortals and Mayhem
Reluctantly, I move to sit in the seat next to the window when Axel arrives a short time later, giving him the room he needs to work. He makes quick work of setting up an IV to start flushing Riley’s system of the poisonous toxins she’s ingested and aiding her wolf in healing her.
Sitting on the bed next to her, he rests his fingers on her temples. Reed steps forward, his body ridged and ready for a fight.
“Leave him,” I growl. “He’s an empath, he won’t hurt her. He’s trying to help her.”
Axel’s brows pinch low, and for a moment, envy washes through me, wishing I could connect with Riley on such an intimate level. He shakes his head and brings his hands back to his lap.
“She needs to reconnect with her wolf. The distance between her two halves is killing them both. Her wolf is very weak. She has a long and painful journey ahead of her. She needs to stop the drinking and drugs, cold turkey, withdraw, and then she needs to shift and become one with her wolf again.”
Silence descends over the room as we all take in Riley’s sleeping form.
“Fuck it. She needs to get clean, then she will. I’ll see to it,” I say, leaving no room for argument. If it means I tie her to my bed for the foreseeable future, then so be it.
Chapter 4
RILEY
The soft, muffled murmurs of distant voices reach my ears. Light pounds against heavy-lidded eyes which refuse to open.
Where the hell am I?
What the fuck happened?
Attempting to turn my head is an epic failure as the sensation of stampeding elephants parade across my mind. I will my arms and legs to move, but the connection to my brain is like a computer saying reboot, please stand by. The light on the other side of my lids goes dark, and I force my eyes to open, blinking through the blurry vision.
A shadowy figure prowls towards me on all fours, much too large to be a dog. Eyes, an ethereal blue, glow through the darkness. Not a dog … a wolf, but not just any wolf … a shifter.
“Shit … shit … shit, shit, shit,” I whisper, my mind whirling with thoughts of Alastair and the pack.
Did he find me?
Is he here?
What’s he going to do to me?
My heart thunders in the confines of its cage, and the throbbing in my head increases with my pulse. Black spots invade my vision—pricks of fear on the edge of consciousness. Adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight burns through the muscles of my legs, but I’m frozen, unable to move. A haze blankets my mind, and the darkness swallows me whole.
Gods, my head is killing me. Lifting my lead-weighted hand to rub at my aching temple sends an itch skittering down my arms and legs. Memories of glowing blue eyes flood my mind, and the need to run burns through my muscles. Flipping off the covers that drape over me, I jump to my feet—or at least I try to—only to fall flat on my ass.
Fucking wonderful. I shake my head for having all the grace of a depressed elephant.
Snickers from the other side of the room catch my attention. Slowly, I look over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes on the poster boy for big bad bikers everywhere. Sitting in a seat by an open window is my boss, Cree Blackwood. He holds at least a foot over my five foot eight, and his shoulder-length silky brown hair just begs for fingers to run through it, not that I’ve considered it.
Liar, the voice inside my head taunts, and I roll my eyes at the snarky bitch before they catch back on Cree. Tracking across the muscles that define his broad shoulders and down to his firm, well-sculpted—and shirtless, I might add—chest. Narrowing in on the valleys of his deliciously chiseled abs just begging to be nibbled. And, oh, my gods, that swoon-worthy V. You know, the one that points straight to the promised land. Oh, yeah, that’s the one. Not that I have ever thought about any of this before.
Sure, Riley, you keep telling yourself that.
I’ve been working for Cree for a little over two months and have never—and I mean never—seen him without a shirt. Until now. The man is sex on a stick, delicious to look at. I lick my lips, and a groan echoes through the room.
Get a hold of yourself, Riley, he’s your fucking boss for crying out loud. Fucking … now that’s an idea.
The clearing of a throat from the corner of the room snaps me out of the trance I’ve been locked in with Cree, and my eyes race back up his naked torso to his eyes. The corners of his mouth curve up, forming a wicked grin. Yep, I’ve been caught staring, and he knows exactly where my thoughts have been.
Flushed, I focus on the furniture to avoid his face. There’s a chest-of-drawers, a single nightstand, the king size bed I apparently fell off, and another man standing in the opposite corner from where Cree is sitting. That’s when I realize I’m still sprawled on the floor beside the bed with legs as useless as a baby deer.
Fucking greatness, can you make a bigger fool of yourself, Riley. Bracing against the bed, I slowly work my way back up to sitting on the bed instead of beside it.
“What’s going on? Where am I?” I ask, resting my head in my hands as the throbbing intensifies, bringing along with it a sensation of swimming.