Read Online Laura's Wolf (Werewolf Marines) by Lia Silver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lia Silver
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“Then I can be your buddy, right?”
She expected him to argue that she wasn’t a Marine, but he seemed to consider it. “You’ll guard my back?”
“I will. I didn’t leave you behind, remember?”
That apparently cinched the deal. “Okay. We’re buddies. Your watch.”
With what looked like a huge effort, he lifted his hand and laid it over hers. Then his eyes fluttered shut, and he relaxed into sleep.
Laura got back in bed with him. He obviously didn’t need her body warmth any more, but his fever might turn to chills at any moment. And there was no way she’d leave him to wake up alone.
Chapter Five: Roy
Cold Beer and Remote Control
Roy shaded his eyes against the pale dawn light. Every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he’d been run over by a tank. But that was a major improvement over what he remembered of the night before.
His right hand was still clutching the pistol under the pillow, so tightly that his fingers were cramped. Roy pried his fingers off the grip of the Raven .25 and rolled over, cautious of re-opening his wound. When there was no sharp pain, only a dull burn, he sat up. The room lurched around him, then steadied itself.
When his vision cleared, he was looking down at Laura. She was fast asleep in a nest of blankets, her brown-sugar curls spread out over the pillow and her soft lips slightly parted. If she’d been his girlfriend, he wouldn’t have been able to resist leaning down and kissing her.
She wasn’t, unfortunately, so he’d just have to resist. But though he didn’t touch her, he couldn’t stop looking and longing.
Last night she’d been so warm and soft beside him, with her generous curves and pillowy breasts. He’d been so cold and sick and hurting that it had been hard to think of anything else, but he’d wished he’d been in better shape, so he could appreciate it. More, he’d wished she was lying there because they were about to make love, not because she was trying to stop him from dying of shock and hypothermia.
He tried to recall what had happened after she’d gotten him into bed. She’d given him tea and laid down beside him, and they’d joked a little about that. He’d fallen asleep or passed out. And then…
His memories were foggy, but he recalled feeling hot, and then chilled to the bone. He’d had the nightmarish sense that the walls of the cabin were pulsing around him. The blankets were heavy as concrete, threatening to crush him. Every breath had felt like a knife driven through his chest.
And then Laura had woken up, and…
Heat again burned through Roy’s body, but this time it was embarrassment rather than fever. He had a horrifyingly vivid recollection of raving about being alone and in pain and missing his buddies and demanding that she keep watch over him. How pathetic was that?
He crossed his fingers that she’d been half-asleep and wouldn’t remember any of it. But he doubted it. He had the awful feeling that he’d said some very memorable things.
The air was heavy with the smells of blood and sweat and candle wax, overpowering Laura’s lemon-sugar. Roy’s pajamas clung to him, still damp in patches where he’d sweated through them.
He stood up slowly, pistol in hand. His legs felt wobbly and his chest hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He could hardly believe how quickly he’d recovered.
Roy walked out, quietly so as to not wake her. Apart from the bedroom and bathroom, the cabin had one big room divided into areas: an open kitchen separated from a dining room by a counter, and a living room with a sofa, a TV, and a huge picture window. The fire was out in the fireplace, and the wood stove was burning low.
He fed the stove and lit the fire, then went from window to window, looking for signs that the enemy werewolf had returned. The storm was over, though snow was still falling gently. Laura’s car was buried up to the windows. No footprints or paw-prints marred the thick carpet of white.
Roy
She expected him to argue that she wasn’t a Marine, but he seemed to consider it. “You’ll guard my back?”
“I will. I didn’t leave you behind, remember?”
That apparently cinched the deal. “Okay. We’re buddies. Your watch.”
With what looked like a huge effort, he lifted his hand and laid it over hers. Then his eyes fluttered shut, and he relaxed into sleep.
Laura got back in bed with him. He obviously didn’t need her body warmth any more, but his fever might turn to chills at any moment. And there was no way she’d leave him to wake up alone.
Chapter Five: Roy
Cold Beer and Remote Control
Roy shaded his eyes against the pale dawn light. Every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he’d been run over by a tank. But that was a major improvement over what he remembered of the night before.
His right hand was still clutching the pistol under the pillow, so tightly that his fingers were cramped. Roy pried his fingers off the grip of the Raven .25 and rolled over, cautious of re-opening his wound. When there was no sharp pain, only a dull burn, he sat up. The room lurched around him, then steadied itself.
When his vision cleared, he was looking down at Laura. She was fast asleep in a nest of blankets, her brown-sugar curls spread out over the pillow and her soft lips slightly parted. If she’d been his girlfriend, he wouldn’t have been able to resist leaning down and kissing her.
She wasn’t, unfortunately, so he’d just have to resist. But though he didn’t touch her, he couldn’t stop looking and longing.
Last night she’d been so warm and soft beside him, with her generous curves and pillowy breasts. He’d been so cold and sick and hurting that it had been hard to think of anything else, but he’d wished he’d been in better shape, so he could appreciate it. More, he’d wished she was lying there because they were about to make love, not because she was trying to stop him from dying of shock and hypothermia.
He tried to recall what had happened after she’d gotten him into bed. She’d given him tea and laid down beside him, and they’d joked a little about that. He’d fallen asleep or passed out. And then…
His memories were foggy, but he recalled feeling hot, and then chilled to the bone. He’d had the nightmarish sense that the walls of the cabin were pulsing around him. The blankets were heavy as concrete, threatening to crush him. Every breath had felt like a knife driven through his chest.
And then Laura had woken up, and…
Heat again burned through Roy’s body, but this time it was embarrassment rather than fever. He had a horrifyingly vivid recollection of raving about being alone and in pain and missing his buddies and demanding that she keep watch over him. How pathetic was that?
He crossed his fingers that she’d been half-asleep and wouldn’t remember any of it. But he doubted it. He had the awful feeling that he’d said some very memorable things.
The air was heavy with the smells of blood and sweat and candle wax, overpowering Laura’s lemon-sugar. Roy’s pajamas clung to him, still damp in patches where he’d sweated through them.
He stood up slowly, pistol in hand. His legs felt wobbly and his chest hurt, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He could hardly believe how quickly he’d recovered.
Roy walked out, quietly so as to not wake her. Apart from the bedroom and bathroom, the cabin had one big room divided into areas: an open kitchen separated from a dining room by a counter, and a living room with a sofa, a TV, and a huge picture window. The fire was out in the fireplace, and the wood stove was burning low.
He fed the stove and lit the fire, then went from window to window, looking for signs that the enemy werewolf had returned. The storm was over, though snow was still falling gently. Laura’s car was buried up to the windows. No footprints or paw-prints marred the thick carpet of white.
Roy
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