Full Moon by Rachel Hawthorne (best biographies to read .txt) 📕

“I thought you should know.”

“It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not,” he said vehemently. “Not until the full moon.”

I couldn’t do that to Connor, and whatever it was that I was feeling toward Rafe—well, maybe it was just temporary insanity.

“I’ve seen you watching me,” he said quietly. “I thought maybe you were feeling the way I feel.”

“Honestly, Rafe? I don’t know what I’m feeling.” Other than scared, and I wasn’t going to admit that.

I scrambled up and crouched beside him. It was so very dark down there, but I heard movement, so I knew Rafe had sat up. He moaned again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“Okay enough.”

What did that mean? But he sounded petulant, so I didn’t pursue it. His ego had to be bruised. I wanted to tell him about my dream, tell him that I had been noticing and thinking about him lately, but that confession would only make things worse, and it would be harder on us both. It was best that we just forget this night ever happened. And the best way to achieve that end was to get back to Wolford before anyone noticed.

“So how are we going to get out of here?” I asked.

“I can see. I’ll lead the way.”

I stood up. He took my hand and guided it to his back.

“Hang onto my belt, so it’s easier to follow me.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you shifted into a wolf?”

“Not until I can get you to where there’s some light—you can use the headlight on my bike.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Lindsey, I landed at a bad angle. I think I broke my arm.”

“Oh my God, Rafe! Why didn’t you say that before?”

“Because it wouldn’t change anything, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

“God. Sometimes you are such a…guy.”

He actually chuckled, while I wanted to shriek. Now I understood the strain in his voice. He was fighting the pain. I didn’t know whether to have an aw-isn’t-that-sweet-for-not-wanting-to-worry-me moment or a how-stupid-can-you-get-you-obviously-need-help moment, because he was trying to protect me in a strange kind of way. I settled for keeping my voice even when I asked, “How bad?”

“Bad enough that you’re going to have to hold it together for a little while after I shift so it can mend straight.”

One of the perks of being able to shift was rapid cell rejuvenation. Unless we received a fatal head or heart wound or the weapon that struck us was silver, we had the ability to heal quickly.

“We should take care of it before we try to scale back up to the top,” I told him.

“You’re not going to be able to see.”

Probably a good thing since he’d have to remove his clothes to shift.

“I’ve got touch. Which arm?”

“Left.”

Great. I knew he was left-handed. So he was going to try to get us back to the top with one good arm, and it wasn’t his strongest. Because he’d already moved my hand to his belt, I was at a good starting point. I tugged his T-shirt out of his jeans, then very carefully skimmed my hands across his back, over his shoulder, down his arm—

“Oh my God, Rafe!” I cried when my hand encountered a hard edge that had to be bone. He inhaled a sharp breath. I could smell the metallic scent of blood now and felt the warmth of it coating my fingers. His bone had lacerated the skin. “You think it might be broken?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he repeated.

Tears stung my eyes. He had to be hurting. As gently as I could, I maneuvered his T-shirt over his head while he bit back a groan. For the first time in several weeks, I found myself wishing for a full moon so I could see more clearly. The sliver of moon and a few stars scattered across the night sky were pretty useless. And it didn’t help that we were at the base of the cliff, with brush and trees all around us.

Once the T-shirt was free, he said, “I can take care of the rest. Just sit there and when I come over, you’ll have to search for the break and push the two pieces of bone back together.”

“Okay.” Still clutching his T-shirt, I dropped down to the ground and tucked my legs beneath me. So much for our plan to sneak away for just a little while. We’d probably already be heading back if I’d just let him kiss me.

I heard the brush rustle as Rafe shucked off his boots and jeans. I refused to envision him naked and shifting into wolf form. The shift would happen in the blink of an eye, faster than I could imagine it.

I barely made out his silhouette as he limped toward me, in wolf form now. I was glad there wasn’t enough moonlight to allow me to see the pain in his eyes. He rested his head in my lap. Very gently, I buried my fingers in his fur and followed the line of his shoulder until I reached his left foreleg.

“I know this is going to hurt, and I’m so sorry,” I said as I struggled and snapped the broken bone back into place. He stiffened, but made no sound. Even in wolf form, he had to be macho. “It’ll be okay now.” I released a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you. You can read my mind, right? I wish I could read yours. Or maybe not. Yours is probably filled with pain right now.”

When we shift, we become telepathic. It’s how we communicate with others while in wolf form. As a bonus, we can also read the minds of those who aren’t in wolf form.

Rafe licked my forearm, maybe to stop my babbling or just to let me know that he was okay. I wanted to bury my face in his fur and weep. I hated that he was going through this. I felt helpless. There