That wasn’t worrying.
Finally, Thea clamped down onto the squashed metal and pulled it out. Sure enough, beneath the blood smears, the metal shone silver in the light.
“Why silver?” Thea asked, thinking maybe it would distract the wolf as she went in for the second bullet.
“Why … what do … you mean?”
“Was it silver that caused your scar?”
His right cheek pressed to the floor so his left, scarred side faced toward her. As far as Thea knew, werewolves had amazing healing abilities. If someone slashed his face, it should have healed.
“Aye. Silver … is like poison to a wolf.”
She pulled out the second bullet. “You’re not the first werewolf to come after me, you know. Ashforth sent a werewolf after me about three years ago.” Thea dug in for the third and final bullet. “The bastard tried to rape me … so I broke his neck.”
Conall grew unnaturally still beneath her and she didn’t know if it was because she used the R word or because she’d admitted to trying to kill one of his kind.
“Realized that didn’t work when he caught up with me about a year later.” Thea pulled out the bullet, her stomach churning as she remembered he’d brought the syringes too. Only he hadn’t been fast enough to inject her like Conall had. Remembering Conall had hurt her, Thea yanked the last bullet out none-too-gently. “Silver isn’t the only weapon against you.”
“What …” He turned his head slightly to look at her. “What did you do?”
Thea refused to meet his gaze, searching the kit for bandaging. The bullet holes were closing but nowhere near as fast as hers would. “I ripped out his heart,” she said nonchalantly. Like she couldn’t still feel the sickening hot, wet lump of muscle in her palm.
“He deserved it. But you kill so easily.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement. Like he knew her.
Enraged, Thea cut him a dark look. “Oh yeah,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “It’s so fucking easy.”
After that there was silence between them. Thea cleaned up his back and taped bandages over the bullet wounds. There was no more blood, however, and the silvery veins had all but disappeared.
Conall shifted on the floor. “I can sit.”
Thea stood and retreated as the werewolf sat up and leaned against the bathtub with a groan. He was one of the biggest men she’d ever met and every inch of him was hard and smooth. His broad, muscled chest was surprisingly so. Thea would have thought as a wolf, he’d be covered in hair. However, there was only a light dusting of a happy trail down his incredibly roped six-pack.
And I need to stop staring at the half-naked, angry werewolf. “Okay. Well … I’ll go get your rucksack so you can change out of those bloody jeans.”
Afterward she left Conall to dress in the bathroom and she wandered outside. There really were no other cars in sight. Just Conall’s.
It would have to do for now.
Stepping back inside the motel room, Thea halted as Conall came out of the bathroom. His height caused a logistical problem for her next move.
Although his color hadn’t fully returned to normal, the wolf was looking much stronger. She didn’t know if she could take him in a fight when he was at full strength, which was more than a little concerning. As if he’d read her mind, he cut her an expressionless look. “You should have left me to die, lass.”
“Probably. I guess I’m just going to have to take the chance you were bluffing.”
He frowned and opened his mouth to question her, but Thea had already made her move.
Before he could comprehend it, she was on the bed behind him and reaching for his head before his weakened reflexes could catch up.
The crack of his neck echoed around the room, causing a sick lurch in Thea’s stomach.
For some reason, stupid tears stung her eyes as she watched his body hit the ground with an almighty thud. Why should she care? It wasn’t like he was dead. She’d knocked him out. For … however long he took to heal.
And he had stuck her with that goddamn injection.
Speaking of …
Thea jumped off the mattress, avoiding Conall’s body. Earlier when she’d been treating his wounds, she’d spied the syringes in the first aid kit. Grabbing them, Thea hurried out of the motel room and toward the fields beyond. Quickly she dug a hole with her bare hands and buried the syringes. Hurrying back, she avoided staring at Conall because he looked very much dead.
She grabbed his wallet and as she took his money, leaving him his credit cards, a folded-up photograph caught her attention. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled it out. Smoothing her fingers across the picture, she spotted who she thought was Conall only to realize it wasn’t. The man who looked like him was standing next to a much younger Conall, and Thea deduced it was his father. The younger Conall had his arm around the waist of a small, redheaded girl buried into his side. And beside the man she’d mistaken for Conall was a beautiful redheaded woman.