“That son of a bitch, McCain,” he said thickly. “He’s the reason I’m here. Him and his sick ‘Open Breedings’ in Fur Form!”
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“You didn’t seem too unhappy with him when you met him earlier tonight.”
“Of course I didn’t—I’m undercover,” Nick protested. “The Council of Were Elders has charged me with finding out if the rumors of what McCain’s been doing are true or not. I’m gonna bust that son of a bitch and make him answer for everything he’s done to our family!”
My eyebrows went even higher.
“So…you’re some kind of undercover Werewolf agent? Is that it?”
“Not exactly,” he said stiffly. “Actually, I’m an attorney—I practice Environmental Law in California. Suing big corporations to try and get them to reduce their carbon emissions—that kind of thing,” he added. “But it just so happens that California is where the Council meets. I was called in as a consultant on another matter and one of the Elder Weres happened to mention what was going on down here in Wolverton. When I told him it was my hometown, so to speak, the Council asked me to investigate.” He frowned. “I was more than willing—anything to bring McCain down.”
“Well, I’d say you got the proof you were after,” I said with a shiver, remembering the perverted things I’d seen in the clearing that night. “Damn near every single Were changed to Fur Form to breed those poor girls. And not a single one of the girls even tried to run!” I shook my head, still having a hard time believing it.
“Don’t be too hard on the girls—most of them had the Breeding Fever,” Nick told me. “Didn’t you see the way their breasts were leaking nectar?”
His eyes flicked to my own full breasts, which were floating on the surface of the bathwater, and then away again, as though he was embarrassed.
“But isn’t that ‘Breeding Fever’ stuff just a lie they tell the women to keep them quiet?” I demanded. “I mean, it’s not a real thing—is it?”
“Kira, you know it’s a real thing,” Nick said in a low voice, looking away from me. “Let’s take a look at that ankle,” he added, abruptly changing the subject. “Stick it out on the edge of the tub and let me see it.”
Biting my lip, I did as he asked. The ankle was still oozing blood, but it actually looked much better than I had feared it would.
“Oh, it’s not as bad as I thought,” I said hopefully. I frowned. “Though I might still need stitches.”
“I doubt it,” Nick said confidently. “You’ve got Were blood in you—you’re going to heal fast. Especially with a pack member—and a blood-sib at that—taking care of you.”
I furrowed my brow at him.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“The touch of another Were—especially a close relation—aids in healing, ” Nick explained.
As he spoke, he was very gently blotting my ankle dry with a clean white towel. Red blotches appeared on its surface like bloody flowers blooming.
As soon as he got it dry, Nick reached into a first aid kit he’d had ready by the side of the tub and began painting my ankle with antibiotic ointment. For some reason, it made me think of the burn cream that had been put on my arm when I was branded, the very first time we met.
After making sure my ankle was liberally slathered with the healing ointment, Nick wound a clean white gauze bandage around the wound and fastened it with a clip.
“There,” he said, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll check it in the morning but I’m sure you’re going to be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said doubtfully. If my ankle looked the least little bit infected I was going straight to the ER in the morning, I thought to myself. But not the ER at Wolverton General Hospital—I would have to go to the next town over to be sure and keep out of McCain’s reach.
“Okay, let’s see the rest of you,” Nick said in a businesslike voice as he pulled the plug, letting the pinkish water drain away. “Here, let me help you up—we don’t want to get that bandage wet.”
He got me sitting on the broad, curving edge of the tub on another white towel with a third draped around my shoulders.
“God, darlin’—looks like you tried to hump the damn tree,” he remarked, examining the scrapes and scratches all up and down my front.
“I was hanging on for dear life while McCain was trying to yank me down to the ground so he could…could ‘breed’ me.” My voice started out defensive but ended in a vulnerable wobble I didn’t like. I swallowed hard, trying not to think of the big bastard’s plans for me.
“Hey, look at me…look at me, Kira.” Nick cupped my cheek in one big, warm hand and looked into my eyes. “He’s never going to get you,” he said clearly, when I was finally able to meet his gaze. “Never. I’m your blood-sib—your big brother and I’ll defend you to my last breath. I swear to you now, that asshole is never coming near you again!”