My Sister Is A Werewolf

CHAPTER 9

Well, for whatever other craziness, the old man had been right about the Boyd Road. It did lead right to an old farmhouse. The only house on the road.

He felt like an intruder, pulling into the drive, but the temptation to see Elizabeth was too much.

Lights glowed in several of the windows, but otherwise the place appeared quiet. He stepped up the stairs onto a large wraparound porch much like his granddad’s and knocked on the front door.

Waiting, he peeked in the windows into a kitchen, which was very tidy. He knocked again, and he listened.

Maybe she could see him out there and she was avoiding him. He raised his hand to knock again, but stopped himself. He could hardly force himself on her. If she didn’t want to see him, she didn’t want to see him.

From behind him, a noise sounded, like something being knocked over. Something hard and heavy. He spun, peering into the darkness, not seeing where the noise could have come from. He stood stock-still, listening.

He heard another sound, not the same as the first. This time a low growl rumbled from across the yard. The sound of an animal rather than a human.

“Hello?” he called anyway, stepping down off the porch. Silence greeted him. He walked slowly across the lawn, trying to peer into the dark.

As he approached the barn he noticed light seeping around the hinges of the old double doors. Another sound like something falling over echoed out of the large structure.

He picked up his speed.

He hurried over to the barn and tugged the large door open. The old hinges squeaked, and he heard a scurrying sound that he wrote off to mice running for cover.

The interior of the barn was relatively empty. Remnants of hay, cobwebs, and other signs of lack of use, all exactly what he would picture in an old, unused building like this. Except, on the far end, heavy plastic sectioned a makeshift room away from the rest of the barn. It glowed like a cocoon lit from within.

He frowned, taking a cautious step forward. Which was a good thing, because as he stepped down, he nearly trod on a small, bleary-eyed skunk. The animal peered up at him with unconcerned black eyes. Jensen fought the urge to recoil. A sudden movement could startle the creature and lead to a bad and very smelly outcome.

The skunk disregarded him and trundled off to disappear into one of the old horse stalls.

Jensen let out a pent-up breath. That had been close, in fact, he couldn’t believe that the little animal hadn’t sprayed. Definitely not the usual behavior of a surprised skunk, but he was thankful he’d been spared.

He cast another quick look around, looking for more wandering animals-and for what could be making all the noise. When he saw nothing, he took another step into the shadowy barn, illuminated only by the strange plastic room. The floorboards creaked, and he heard a responding shuffle that seemed to emanate from within the plastic room. For the first time, Jensen noticed a shadow in the plastic cocoon-what appeared to be the silhouette of a figure.

Or at least he thought it was a figure, even though the object didn’t move. It gave the impression of large shoulders and a head, almost like a figure of something crouched, poised to attack.

“Elizabeth?” he called, keeping his voice low, his eyes trained on that shadow. Something wasn’t right here. The air actually felt thick, and his skin prickled like he was in the presence of something far more dangerous than a skunk. Although wandering skunks, strange noises, and an eerie glowing plastic room all seemed like valid reasons to be a little cautious.

“Elizabeth,” he said again, a little louder. He had the feeling she was here, and she was in danger.

He took another step, when a strange noise overhead caused him to freeze. What the hell was that?

He glanced up and saw several owls lined up on one of the exposed beams. They blinked down at him, then one spread its wings-the whispery whoosh of the long appendages was the sound he had heard.

Jensen frowned again. A skunk undisturbed by a human. Several barn owls. That was all a little strange, not to mention that thing in the plastic. He looked back to the makeshift room, only to see that the dark shape was now gone. The plastic glowed, pale and oddly alienlike in the dim barn.

No, something was really wrong here.

“Elizabeth?” he called again, this time louder, more concerned. He didn’t understand why, but he knew she was in trouble.

He strode toward the makeshift room and peeled back the heavy plastic. Before his eyes could adjust to the change in light, something lunged at him, barreling into him so hard that his feet left the ground. He and his attacker flew through the air and landed in a heap against one of the wooden stalls.

Jensen remained sprawled there, half-lying/half-upright, struggling to pull air into his stunned lungs. The thing scrambled off him and backed away, crouching in the dark corner, regarding him with pale eyes. Jensen tried to make out what the thing was, but between the shifts of light, the speed of its movement and his own winded state, all he could make out was a dark, curled ball. What the hell?

He carefully struggled into a sitting position, his eyes locked on the thing, trying to keep his movements slow and nonthreatening. If this was a wild animal, his best strategy was to remain as still as possible.

The shadow in the corner remained just as still. Then, as Jensen watched, the form changed, shifting like a darkness disappearing with the movement of the sun. Stretching and shrinking, until he realized he was staring at a human. Not an animal at all.

He blinked, certain he couldn’t possibly be seeing what he thought he was. The form went from appearing large and black and threatening to a slight, curled body.

“Elizabeth?”

The form lifted its head, and for the first time, he could make out actual features. Long, dark hair, a pointed chin, and wide, frightened pale eyes.

“J-Jensen?” Elizabeth’s voice sounded dazed. As dazed as he felt.

Jensen immediately overcame his own confusion, scrambling over to her, touching her. Brushing her tangled hair away from her face to reassure himself she was real. That he’d imagined the hulking shadow. That he’d imagined her brutal strength.

That strength… His hand paused on her cheek. Good God, her skin was on fire.

“Elizabeth, you’re burning up.” He brushed back her bangs, testing the temperature of her forehead. Her cheeks. She had a raging fever. Sweat dampened her hair.

“Jensen, you-you should go.” She tried to push up to her feet, but she lost her balance, falling onto her bottom, her legs curled awkwardly under her. For the first time, Jensen realized she was naked.

He reached for her, trying to help, but she jerked away.

“ Don ’t touch me,” she said, the words more a plea than an order.

“Elizabeth, you’re sick.” God, he hoped she was just sick, but again that feeling that something was terribly wrong assaulted him. Had she been attacked? And what had he just seen?

Elizabeth’s hoarse, humorless laugh drew his attention back to her. “You have no idea.”

Jensen frowned, not understanding her words. But then, her fever had to be high enough that she was likely delusional. That could explain why she was here, undressed. But that didn’t explain what he saw.

She made a small, whimpering sound, and again his thoughts were back to her. He needed to get her fever down. Even though she attempted to push him away again, he managed to lift her, holding her tight against his chest. She still strained against him, her slight frame surprisingly strong. But he held her, hushing her with soothing noises and words. Eventually she calmed against him, her body burning hot and her limbs becoming boneless.

For a brief moment, Jensen worried that she’d fallen unconscious.

“How did you find me?” she murmured.

He didn’t want to get that old man-what was his name? Jed. He didn’t want to get Jed into trouble, so he opted for her answering strategy.

“I just sniffed you out.”

Elizabeth cracked one eye. “But you can’t do that. You’re only human.”

Jensen stared down at her for a moment, remembering Jed’s odd words and how hers somehow seemed to tie in with them. But then she let out a reedy breath, and he realized she probably had no idea what she was saying. From the feel of her skin, he’d guess her temperature was close to 104, if not higher. She needed a doctor.

He strode toward his truck, trying to recall the fastest route to a hospital from this location. Probably east on 219.

He held her more securely as he reached for the door handle of his truck.

“What are we doing?” Elizabeth asked, the words a little slurred.

“We have to get you to a hospital. I’m really worried about this fever.”

Elizabeth actually managed to stiffen in his grasp. He would have thought it impossible, given how weak she had seemed just moments before. She wriggled in his arms, determined to break free. He nearly dropped her, before hooking her tightly around the waist.

“Stop, Elizabeth,” he ordered, hoping his sharp words would pierce her fever-hazed mind. “Stop it.”

She didn’t immediately, although eventually she stopped squirming. Still, her body remained coiled, as if she planned to struggle again at any moment.

“I don’t need to go to the doctor,” she told him, her voice low and reedy, her pale eyes determined.

Jensen attempted to open the truck door, but he shook his head. “Elizabeth, you are very sick.”

She shook her head, her eyes still holding his. “No. It will pass. Plus, you’re here.”

Jensen laughed. “Elizabeth, I’m a vet.”

She smiled, just the briefest quirk of her lips. “I know. It’s so appropriate, isn’t it?”

He had no idea what she meant, and he knew he shouldn’t be looking for logic in her words-she was sick. Yet, he couldn’t quite disregard them. They meant something.

Even though he still believed the decision was wrong, he felt himself moving around the truck toward her house.

As soon as she realized where they were going, Elizabeth relaxed against him. Her eyes drifted shut, and her fingers curled into his shirt front as if she wanted to hold him close. Much better than fighting to be freed, but Jensen still wasn’t sure he was making the right choice.

He managed to turn the knob to the front door without jarring her too much. Then he kicked it shut behind him. He scanned the rooms, considered laying her down on the sofa in her living room, but then he decided against it. The first thing he had to do was get her fever down.

“Elizabeth, is the bathroom upstairs?” he asked, in part to rouse her-her stillness concerned him. She didn’t reply. Not good.

He headed toward the stairs, assuming that was where he would find the bathroom with a shower or a bathtub. Elizabeth’s head lolled against his shoulder. He doubled his steps, taking the remainder two at a time.

Sure enough, he spotted the bathroom at the end of the hallway. He carried her straight to the small, tidy room.

He looked around, debating where he should set her. She couldn’t sit by herself, so he gently placed her on the floor, trying to get as much of her body as possible on the blue-and-green bath mat. He searched for a towel to cover her. Despite their past interactions, it somehow felt wrong for her to be naked now.

Hell, he hadn’t even had the opportunity to see her fully nude, and seeing her that way now just felt wrong. As he draped a large sea-green towel over her, he did assess her systematically for injuries. He didn’t think she’d been attacked, but he wanted to be sure. Her creamy skin was flawless-no signs of struggle.

He tucked the towel around her, feeling slightly better. Slightly.

Then he turned to assess the bathing situation. A shower/ tub combo. That was good. He turned the knobs, testing the water until it was tepid-not so cold that it would shock her system, but cool enough, he hoped, to bring her fever down.

While the tub filled, he turned to the medicine cabinet. She needed to get some ibuprofen or aspirin or something into her to help lower her temperature.

He opened the mirrored door to discover the shelves neatly lined with toiletries. He shifted a few around, searching for any type of fever reducer. There were none-the only thing she seemed to have in abundance were hair-removal products. Waxes, depilatories, tweezers, razors. He stared at them for a moment, then heard Elizabeth moan.

He turned back to her to see she was struggling to sit up.

“Shh, darling,” he said, kneeling down to catch her around the back, cradling her against him. “You’ve got to just rest.” He was glad to see she was conscious.

She frowned at him. “Why are you calling me darling? I’m not your darling. Am I?”

He smiled at that, realizing she never would have asked that question if she was fully lucid.

And he took advantage of the fact that she probably wouldn’t recall much in the morning. “I’d like you to be my darling.”

He smoothed back her hair, noticing again how soft and thick it was against his fingers. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed, seeming to like the touch.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she murmured, the soft words filled with conviction. And again, he wondered why one minute she seemed to want him and the next, not so much. But right now she was far too sick to provide any answers.

“Do you have any ibuprofen? Or acetaminophen?”

Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes already drifting shut. “Makes me sick.”

Jensen paused at that, glad she was lucid enough to tell him that bit of information. All he needed was to make her condition worse. He brushed her damp hair away from her forehead, studying her pasty complexion. Katie flashed through his mind. Helpless. Pale and hurting.

He blinked away the image, focusing his attention on the tub nearly filled with water. He reached over to test the temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.

“Elizabeth? Let’s get you in the tub.”

He glanced down at her to see she was again motionless, her eyes closed. He eased her off his lap and back onto the bath mat. She didn’t stir. He shut off the water, then tried to decide what he should do.

Her skin still burned his fingers-her temperature hadn’t gone down. Hesitating only a second more, he scooped her up. She didn’t rouse, which worried him more. The fever was raging.

Slowly, he slipped her down into the water. Her body seized up immediately, her arms tightening around his neck until she was nearly strangling him. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub, soaking him and the floor.

“Shh, darling. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he soothed. “We have to get this fever down.”

She gaped at him, her eyes wide but not focused. She shivered violently, but she allowed him to settle her in the tub.

“I–I’m o-o-kay,” she insisted. “W-will pass.”

“I know,” he assured her. “But this will make it pass quicker. I know it doesn’t feel good.”

She shivered, but closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the edge of the tub.

He looked around, spotting a washcloth hanging on the towel rack near the sink. He reached over, grabbed it, and dunked the cloth in the water. Gently, he brushed the wrung-out towel over her forehead and cheeks.

She moaned. “I like that.”

He watched her, her eyes remaining shut, her full lips parted. He forced his gaze away. He shouldn’t be noticing how lovely she was-not when she was so sick she had no idea what was going on.

“I like when you call me darling, too,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.

And if that wasn’t proof that she didn’t know what was going on, nothing was.

But he smiled. “Just rest, darling.”

She smiled slightly, then did as he asked.

He continued to dampen her face and head, keeping all his thoughts on getting her temperature down. He had no idea how much time passed, but eventually her skin grew cooler, the pastiness lessening until her coloring grew a bit pinker. Much better than the awful white/gray she had been.

He rolled up his already wet sleeves and dipped his hands under her slight frame. She curled into him, water seeping through his shirt. He ignored the oddly arousing combination of the cool water and her now normal body heat against him.

Wrangling a towel off the hook on the way out of the bathroom, he carried her down the hall, peeking into the rooms, trying to decide which one was her bedroom, which wasn’t too hard.

One room was totally empty, while another was piled with boxes; the third was very feminine with a white wrought-iron bed and floral quilt.

Not at all what he would have expected Elizabeth’s bedroom to look like-somehow he’d pictured dark colors and thick satin sheets. Not that he’d thought about her bedroom, of course. But this dainty room was the only option, so it had to be hers.

“Where are we going?” she asked, barely lifting her head from his shoulder, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“To put you to bed.”

“I can’t. I need to work.”

Jensen laughed dryly. “Darling, I don’t think you could work right now even if I tied you up at your lab table.”

She harrumphed, which got another smile from him. But she didn’t argue further as he set her on her feet just briefly, anchoring her to his side while he pulled back the covers. She tottered slightly, but did manage to stay on her feet.

“Darling, I don’t want to put you to bed still wet.”

“Okay,” she agreed willingly, and held out her arms to signal he could dry her. He nearly groaned again. Did she have any idea what a temptation she was?

Knowing the Elizabeth he knew, probably.

Then she began to weave again, and he had to tug her tight to his chest to keep her from falling. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just too out of it to know what she was doing.

Quickly, he patted the towel over her skin and lifted her onto the cushy mattress, pulling the covers over her nakedness before he could be even more of a pervert.

He tucked the quilt around her, then debated what to do next. He didn’t want to leave her, when she was obviously too weak to get something if she needed it. He spotted a chair in the corner and started toward it, when her low voice reached him.

“Even though you shouldn’t, please lie down with me, Jensen.”

He paused, looking back at her. Those peculiar eyes of hers watched him, drowsy yet so inviting.

His first thought was to deny her-he didn’t trust himself to be close to her, knowing she lay naked under the covers. Then he admonished himself. He certainly had enough control to lie with her until he was sure she was all right.

“Sure,” he agreed, not really sounding as confident as he should.

He crossed to the opposite side of the bed and sat down on the edge. He considered pulling back the covers and joining her underneath, but he knew that was too much temptation. The last thing this tired, ill woman needed was a man with a raging hard-on rubbing up against her.

He stretched out on top of the covers. Elizabeth immediately rolled over to curl against him.

“You’re all wet,” she complained, shivering.

That was true-and the cold, damp clothes were doing nothing for his growing arousal.

“You’d better take that shirt off, or you’ll get sick.” Her finger plucked at the button just above his navel. Altogether too close to the erection pressing against his jeans.

He sat up and undid the buttons, then shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed.

He started to fall back against the pillows, when she murmured, “Your pants are wet, too.”

He chuckled at that. “Even sick, you’re a seductress.”

She smiled, the curve of her lips far more sleepy and sweet than seductive. “Only with you.”

A pang of something like hope zinged through him, mingling with the longing in his body. Was that true? Was all this something rare and strange for them both?

“So why shouldn’t I lie with you, then?” he couldn’t help asking.

Silence greeted his question and for a moment he thought she’d dozed off. But finally she murmured, “Because I’m not good enough for you.”

Then Elizabeth shifted against him, her fingers splaying over his bare chest, her face nuzzling on the pillow against his. His body reacted, even as he warned it not to. Then she sighed, the soft sound followed by a very distinct snore.

He lay there for a moment, not sure how to react. This woman really had a way of surprising him, fascinating him and leaving him with lots of unanswered questions. And it didn’t appear there would be any answer for a little while longer.

He closed his eyes, prepared to wait.