Chapter 4: Drifters

Priscilla’s POV

The drifter vampires snickered among themselves realizing I didn’t speak the language. The moon was the only source of light across the muddied pathway. I could see the gleam of fangs and the black eyes. Veiny paleness illuminating their inhuman attributes.

My body tensed, my hand slipping into my pocket, gripping my blade.

More bitter laughter as they approached me. I understood vampires. Knew what made them tick. I withdrew my hand, revealing a small pocketknife. That only seemed to amuse them.

“Mia cara,” one of them crooned before saying something else in Italian. I didn’t need to speak the language to know what he was saying. The knife wasn’t for them.

It was for me.

Without blinking, I pulled up a sleeve, slicing the knife against my forearm, adding another hash mark to my skin to join the rest. I barely had time to prepare myself for the brunt of the attack.

I couldn’t even stifle a shout as one of the three yanked my arm back, dragging the flesh towards their teeth. The force of the grasp dislocated my shoulder, a horrible pressure building in my joint.

Agony erupted up my arm, but it was nothing compared to the wail that escaped the vampire’s lips as he flew back from me like I struck him. He fell back, my blood like a chemical burn against his lips.

My injured arm flopped limply against my side with a whimper. It didn’t matter how many times this happened to me, it hurt just as badly every time.

The drifter’s companions rushed to his side as he flailed, screaming as the blood ate through him, sizzling a hole right through his throat. As a practicing bruja, my blood was potent, far more deadly than it would be otherwise.

Dust.

Blood flowed freely from the bite wound on my injured arm, and I gathered it with my free hand, flinging it towards the other drifters as they stood up in a panic, all intent on killing me.

Every splatter was like acid, but that didn’t stop the female from grabbing me and throwing me back several feet. My head reeled, but I was no stranger to a violent night. I wasn’t as strong as a shifter, as fast as a pureblood, but my tongue was just as sharp as their teeth.

Flat on my back, I uttered an incantation through gritted teeth. Thick, barbed vines shot up through the earth, gripping both remaining drifters. I had to know where I was. Use the appropriate spells. Fight with the elements.

The female drifter was spitting insults as I rolled over, using my good arm to push myself up. I must have let my guard down for a second as the female broke through the vines and made two long strides toward me.

Before she could finish the job, a massive wolf dove out of the tree line, knocking her onto the ground and violently ripping her throat out.

My eyes shot up to the male drifter who was still trapped in my spell. A small smile pulled at the corner of my lips as I snapped my fingers. There was only a split moment of realization before he was dust.

“Fuck,” I grunted, my free hand reaching over to cradle my limp arm.

I glanced over at the wolf, the enormous creature raising its bloodstained maw from the pile of dust. Rich black fur coated its form, paws the size of my torso. When I was met with vibrant green eyes, I knew it was Wyatt.

Holy shit.

He was massive. I thought Robin’s wolf was big, but Wyatt was easily two times as large. I had this urge to touch him. Feel the mane between my fingertips. The awe must have been clear on my face because before I could act on it, Wyatt shifted back.

It looked easy, painless for him to go between his forms. The fur dissolved around him, the jaw of the wolf falling open to reveal Wyatt’s face as it completely slouched off him, leaving a padded, deflated pile of fur that melted into the grass.

Fascinating.

My eyes climbed back up his legs, a billion questions on my lips. I felt absolutely taken by him, my heart beginning to hammer in my chest. A tingly, twisty sensation pulled at my abdomen, travelling down my legs and all the way back up.

Wyatt snapped his fingers, tearing me away from my gawking as my gaze shot right up to his face. Whenever I saw him, he was usually clean shaven, but this time I noticed a sprinkling of facial hair across his jaw.

I couldn’t tell the emotion that resided in his eyes. Either disapproval or maybe annoyance like I was a pesky adolescent. Or one of his broken strays.

That only pissed me off.

“I didn’t need your help,” was the phrase that slipped from my lips.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he gestured to how I was cradling my arm.

My hand squeezed at my dislocated shoulder; my teeth gritted. This was going to hurt like a bitch. I reluctantly ground out from between my lips. “Do you mind? My shoulder’s dislocated.”

He nodded, as I offered my arm out to him. He hesitated, slowly raising it to the position. I whimpered and glared up at him. Even the electricity of his touch didn’t soothe the strain of my joint rolling under the skin.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t baby me—”

An uncontrollable shout spilled past my lips as he popped my shoulder back into place, using my irritation to distract me. The agonizing pressure released, and I slumped in relief against his naked chest. Dios Mio what a wonderful respite. My eyes fluttered closed, and I took a few deep breaths.

“Better?” I felt his chest rumble beneath my ear as he asked.

Then I remembered just how naked Wyatt was. My eyes shot right open, and I shoved away from him, heat flushing my cheeks.

I rolled my shoulder once. Twice. Sore, but better. “Yeah,” I replied.

“You’re bleeding,” Wyatt observed, the blood from both the bite and the slash bleeding freely. I pulled down my sleeve, hiding the wound. It was slower than it was earlier, but it was no surprise he found me. “What were you thinking?”

“What, I can’t go off on a walk? Where the hell have you been all day?” I replied, turning around to shoot him a glare.

Wyatt raised one eyebrow, unbothered by my expression. That annoyed me. There was nothing I wanted more than a real reaction. “I’ve been securing the border. Pushing drifters off the property. If you actually talked to me instead of staring at me all day, you would know we’ve been having pushback from nomads.”

My mouth went dry, heat rushing up to tint my cheeks pink. “Do you think that I wanted to get into a fight with vampires tonight?”

“I don’t know. Did you?” he countered. When I didn’t answer right away, he repeated, “What were you thinking?”

I narrowed my eyes and turned away, not interested in getting interrogated tonight. I started walking off toward where the lodge was.

“We’re not done here,” Wyatt stated firmly, the authority in his voice was enough for me to slow my pace. I didn’t want him to have any effect on me.

I bristled back up. “I’m going back. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Priscilla.” There was a softness to his tone. His long legs kept up with me easily. “Talk to me. Please.”

For once, I felt like I could hear something in his voice. I stopped walking, a sigh releasing from my throat as I looked back at him, exhaustion evident on my face. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to be alone. And now my shoulder is sore, and I have fang marks on my arms.”

“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing to my arm where the sleeve of my shirt was getting wetter with weeping blood.

As I gazed at him, the moonlight illuminated his bare skin. My first instinct was to say no. To hold myself back, keep my distance, but my heart fluttered in my chest. A handful of gray hairs matured his features. My attraction to Wyatt struck me hard.

I held my arm out to him, my shoulder whining. One of his hands cupped the underside of my forearm, the other one gently pulling back my soaked sleeve, uncovering various hash marks and teeth-induced scarring.

Wyatt hummed, looking at the injury. I know he noticed the scarring, but he didn’t say anything about it. His soft touch left tingles on my skin, making my breath catch. “It’s not too bad. Needs stitches. I have a suture kit in the kitchen.”

I tried to ignore the coiling in my abdomen, a washing of heat radiating down toward my legs. “And you can suture? Why waste your time learning that?”

“I can argue that there is nothing better to know,” he replied. “Let’s get back.”

I didn’t have it in me to argue. But maybe I didn’t want to.

We came across a stash of clothes on the walk back, and I was thankful Wyatt finally put some pants on. I felt like I was being respectful, but even I can only wait out so long before eyeing him up again.

“Oh, my god! What happened?” Oriana was the first person to ask as Wyatt led me inside the lodge. She was sitting in Robin’s lap, curled up against him watching a movie in the front room. She jumped to her feet as soon as she scented the blood.

I sat at the dining table nearby, pulling back the slickness of my sleeve.

“I thought I told you to be careful.” This time it was Robin.

“You need to put some signage or something out there. I can’t smell the border like you,” I pointed out.

“Noted. Are you okay?” Robin asked.

“She will be if you give her some space,” Wyatt answered for me, returning with a small first aid kit. It was sweet of Robin to ask, but Wyatt was right, I felt a little overwhelmed by my niece and her boyfriend hovering over me.

Oriana kept her gaze on me, waiting for me to answer.

“I’m okay. A little banged up, but I’ve had worse,” I answered.

“Okay,” Oriana conceded, still obviously hesitant, but she returned to the couch with Robin as they made themselves comfortable for the duration of the movie.

Wyatt’s long fingers clicked open the kit, finding a sterile needle and thread. I found it quite interesting to watch how his brow furrowed, intently sanitizing the skin before concentrating on his stitch.

“How’d you learn how to suture?” I asked, tilting my head to the side, seeking his gaze.

The alpha wolf paused as if he was surprised by my question. I couldn’t blame him. I’ve maybe said a total of twenty things to him since we met. Never once have I asked him anything personally. “My mother was a seamstress. Skin isn’t vastly different from fabric.”

“Do you crochet too?”

I watched Wyatt’s lips twitch for a moment as if he might smile. “Yes. A hobby of mine.”

“I didn’t think that alphas were allowed to have hobbies,” I teased.

“You’d be surprised,” he replied. He tied a knot at the base of the stitches, tightening it and snipping the excess before laying a bandage over top of it. “Keep it dry. I’ll remove them in a few days.”

“Thanks,” I answered, looking up at him as he left.

He paused before he turned the corner and said, “And Priscilla.”

“Yes?”

“Try to avoid any other alternations until that heals.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he left toward the direction of his quarters.

The corner of my lips pulled upwards. Was that an attempt at a joke?