Pack

Chapter Six

"Just a couple scratches." He offered me an easy smile. "Nothing big. I'm tougher than I look."

I arched an eyebrow. "He chucked you through a window."

His eyes slid up to mine, secrets stirred in the green depths. "I know."

"Why aren't you hurt more?"

He stared at me for a moment and I could practically see the wheels in his head turning. He was either debating between telling me an elaborate lie, or trying to figure out a way to tell me the truth. "Don't worry about it, Avery." He eventually shook his head, and looked away. "Let me worry about you. How about taking off your shirt?" He lifted his chin toward it.

I knew he wasn't going to say anything more on the topic of his epic toughness, so with a frustrated sigh, I grabbed the seams of my t-shirt and pulled it up and over my head. A trail of dried blood ran down my forearm from where the crazed man had tackled me and dug his nails in.

"Pants too," he said as he dug through his first aid kit.

Sure, why not? What was another level of humiliation and awkwardness to what I already felt? Placing my hands on the waist of my sweat pants, I tugged them down.

To Jace's credit, he didn't stare. He got busy unwrapping bandages and opening ointments. If only by a fraction, his professionalism of the situation comforted me. It even made me like him a little more. If we'd met in a different way, under different circumstances, I could see us as friends.

With a critical eye he looked me over, as a doctor would a patient. He stopped on a large bruise that wrapped completely around my calf. The purplish marks looked like four perfect fingers and one thumb. I shivered when I looked at it, remembering how defenseless I'd felt stuck in that man's grip.

"Are you cold?" His gaze shifted to mine.

I shook my head, but he handed me a towel anyway. After motioning for me to sit down on the toilet, he grabbed a face cloth and wet it.

He washed the blood off my arm and put ointment on the scratch marks before wrapping a bandage around it. Even though there wasn't any blood on them, he kneeled down in front of me, and used the cloth to wipe down my legs.

He looked up at me from the ground. "I want to check your neck and throat. Can you stand, please?" Nodding, I turned around and flipped my long hair over my left shoulder. I played with the tattered ends, while he washed the cloth out again. Moments later, I heard him sniff, followed by a sting on the back of my neck as he brushed his hand across it. I wondered if I had bruises back there already. Using the warm cloth, he cleaned the back of my neck before sniffing again and wiping down behind my ear. I relaxed as the warm water wiped away the man's stink from my skin.

"There you go." He twisted me around to face him. "All patched up. The bruises and scrapes should heal pretty quickly." He handed me my clothes. "Get dressed. Jonathan's waiting for you out there."

As Jace started toward the door, I had a strong urge to thank him. I stopped myself from saying anything though. I did appreciate his help, but I wasn't sure if that made me thankful. If it hadn't been for all them in the first place, none of this would have happened to me. In silence, Jace left, shutting the door behind him.

After dressing, I inched out of the bathroom. Someone had patched up the front door, but it still had a huge splinter through the wood. A bunch of large pieces of plywood covered the broken window. I didn't remember hearing the owner come by to fix it. But then again, I'd sort of lost it.

Scout stood by the bathroom door waiting for me. He gave me a small smile and grabbed my hand. I looked him over for any injuries, but he didn't appear to be sporting a goose egg on the top of his head and no blood trickled down his face. I smiled back at him, and took a step forward, when a huge figure scooped me up.

Dean held me in his arms, while he openly sniffed me. He started at my legs, moving his way up my body, stopping at my bandaged arm. I squirmed in his grasp, but it didn't seem to deter him. He continued to sniff my hair, and around my head. Frowning, he stopped with his face within inches of mine.

"You smell like Jace."

"H-h-he b-b-bandaged me," I stuttered, feeling like he'd caught me in some lie.

Dean leaned in closer, inhaling slowly. "I scare you."

No duh.

He put me down so I faced him, and continued hanging onto my wrists. "I won't ever hurt you." His blue eyes burned with sincerity. The way he said it, made it sound like a promise. I bit my lip, unsure exactly how to respond to that. "Don't want to talk to me, huh, babe?" He gave me a big toothy grin, and I couldn't help but smile too.

Strange that someone so big and fierce could look so goofy.

His smile faded as his blue eyes narrowed. "Next time someone touches you." A low growl rumbled deep within his chest. "I'll rip them limb from limb."

The sudden flood of imagery was extremely graphic. I really hoped he'd meant that statement figuratively, and not literally. I chose to ignore the growling noise he'd made, but I didn't miss the fact he'd said next time.

"Dean, stop upsetting her," Jonathan chastised, from where he sat in one of the recliners. He motioned for me to come over. Following his instruction, I sat down on the floor in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "You gave us all quite a scare." His voice was conversational and relaxed, but his hands clenched into tight fists on the arms of the recliner.

"I'm better," I answered in a detached tone. A hand gently tugged on mine. Keeping my eyes on Jonathan, I sniffed the air wondering if I could figure out who had grabbed it.

Scout.

I squeezed his hand. In response, he crawled closer to me. Still holding my hand, he rested his head on my shoulder. Jonathan's lips flickered up into a quick smile while he watched us.

"I'd planned to tell you everything once we were more settled," Jonathan started. "But after the earlier attack, I believe I have no choice. Ask me what you want to know." He leaned back in the recliner, his hands relaxing on the armrest.

"Is Dean a wolf?" I blurted out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean straighten. He sat in the other recliner, but I fought the urge to look at him. I knew he wanted to give me some sign, but I ignored him, keeping my focus on Jonathan.

Jonathan gripped the armrest and my stomach jumped up into my throat. I thought I might puke. Inhaling a deep breath, I kept my eyes focused and my exterior calm.

Eventually, he gave me one slow nod. His eyes stayed locked on mine, trying to gage my reaction.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away in fright, or bounce up and down in triumph. I settled on asking another question. "Do all of you change into wolves?" He gave me another slow nod. "So you're a pack of . . . werewolves?"

"Yes," he finally spoke.

"And you're like . . . the head wolf?"

He scrunched up his nose, making a face at his distaste of my word choice, but nodded. "I'm the alpha of this pack. Dean is the beta. When I step down, he will become the new alpha."

"Was that man earlier a werewolf? And is Quinn one too?"

Jonathan sighed. "Yes, we're on Quinn's territory. I had to ask permission to stay and hunt here. That man was a lone werewolf. He must have been passing through and came across your scent."

"Why is the way I smell so important that a lone werewolf would attack a pack over it?"

"It's because . . ." He cleared his throat, sitting up taller. He almost looked nervous. "You're a werewolf too, Avery."