Chapter 8: S1 Ethan: Were You Bitten

Ethan Cotter

The coppery, metallic smell of blood fills the air.

Three distinct scents linger. Two belong to the dead lycans: one on the living room floor with his throat slashed, and the other upstairs with a hole in his chest - both reek of the Kweo clan. And the third, a sweet, alluring aroma, belongs to Sadie, who has just passed out.

She's not human, but she's not lupine or lycan, either. So, what the hell is she, and why'd she have a gun? And why the fuck did the Kweo pack attack on hallowed ground?

He slides the safety on, then slips the weapon inside the waistband of his jeans. The metal is cold against his lower back.

Scooping her up, he cradles her in his arms and carries her down the stairs. In the living room, he lays her on the couch.

Blood. She reeks of blood.

Cupping her chin, he tilts her head, first to one side, looking for the source of the metallic stench, and then to the other.

A small section of her hair, wet and slick, sticks to the left side of her head.

He sniffs, and his inner beast tastes the metallic aroma - blood, a mixture of both hers and her attacker's.

Mine, his beast, whispers in the recesses of his mind.

A tinge of pain stabs at his heart.

Did the Kweo mark her? The thought sends his beast to the edge of frenzy.

The superficial wound on her head doesn't contain the markings of a bite. But the smell of the lycan's blood is strong, so where's it coming from?

He slides a hand over the leather jacket.

Four distinct slash marks mar the garment splattered with blood lycan blood.

Wrapping his fingers around the zipper, he pulls it down, and the teeth come undone, exposing her chest.

Her breasts rise with each inhale. The blue tank top, hugging her body, is intact.

Lowering his head, he draws in a deep breath.

The leather jacket contains the largest concentration of lycan blood. Continuing his search, he doesn't pick up the scent anywhere else on her body except for her hair.

She stirs, and her lids flutter. A soft cry passes her lips.

"Sadie." He caresses the side of her face. "Open your eyes." Her skin is smooth, flawless.

Her almond-shaped eyes spring open, and big brown irises hold his gaze.

"Were you bitten?" He struggles to keep his inner beast under control. "Did he bite you?"

"Bite . . . what?" Sadie shakes her head then grimaces. "Oow . . . my head hurts."

Gingerly, she runs a hand through her hair. She brings her fingertips in front of her face, and her eyes widen.

"Is that blood? Am I bleeding?"

"Listen to me," he says softly. "Focus! Were. You. Bitten?"

"No. I don't think so." She sits, holding the back of the couch for support.

Ethan takes hold of the collar of the jacket and pushes it off her shoulders.

"What are you doing?" She crosses her arms over her chest and pulls away.

"I will not hurt you." He points to the slash marks on the front of the garment. "I just want to make sure you're not injured."

She slips her fingers through the gashes.

"That could've been me." She swallows hard.

Sucking in a ragged breath of air, she slides the jacket down the length of her frame.

Taking hold of her wrist, Ethan examines first her right arm, then left. Other than the early formation of a bruise, she's unmarked.

"I saw the blood and thought," his eyes travel over her tank top, across her breasts, and pause on her narrow waist for several seconds, "he'd bitten you."

"I'm okay, I think."

He continues to follow the flare of her hips to her exposed thighs, searching for any signs of a wound. Other than a scrape or two and a few bruises, he doesn't see any other injuries.

She clears her throat. "What were they . . . those things?" A tremor shakes her body. "They weren't right. They were-"

"Beasts. Half-bloods."

"Half-bloods?" She pauses. "The one I shot - it was - he was dog-like, then took human form. Who or what does that?"

"A Lycan. They were all lycans - even the rogues outside."

"Like a werewolf?"

"Yes." Ethan nods his head. "Can you stand?" He offers his hand.

"I don't understand. They're not real. Werewolves aren't real - they're stories told around a fire to keep kids from wandering too far from camp. Myths. Lore even."

"Most myths are born from unexplainable events." He offers a hand once again. "Can you stand?"

"I think so."

"We need to go. It isn't safe here."

She places the tips of her fingers on the palm of his hand. "Go where?"

Her eyes gloss over and fill with tears. She blinks several times to stem the flow.

Mine, his beast whispers from within. Must protect.

He coaxes her to her feet. "Up the hill to my place."

"I can't go out there." Fear exudes from her body like an intoxicating drug.

The fragrant aroma draws the attention of his beast. Mine, it whispers once more. Must protect Sadie Reed.

Drawing her into his arms, he presses her to his lean frame. Her body fits perfectly against his.

"And then?"

"You'll be safe there. Protected." He cradles her to his chest, stroking her back, offering her what comfort he can.

The faint scent of her arousal piques the interest of the alert wolf inside him.

He sucks in her scent. His inner wolf has wanted women before, but this time it's different. The beast desires to claim her, make her his own.

A deep-seated hunger grows inside him, building layer by layer. In all his years, he's never felt such a powerful attraction or connection before.

He releases her but wraps an arm around her waist because the wolf in him refuses to relinquish its hold.

"Wait." At the door, she pulls back, and her body stiffens. "What if they're out there, those things - those animals?"

"Lycan. They're called lycans." Ethan opens the door and then draws in a deep breath, testing the air.

All that lingers among the Kweo pack members is a residual, fading stench.

"They're gone, for now. But they'll return. And when they come back, they'll be in hunt mode." He ushers her out the door. "We don't want to be here when they return."

"How do you know they're gone?"

Her big brown eyes stare. There's an innocence reflected in them that pulls at him.

"Because I'd smell them." He places a hand on the small of her back, walks her to the motorcycle, then sits down. "Hop on."

The wolf inside him longs to feel her touch once more, and can't wait for her to wrap her arms around him. He's never experienced such a strong need or attraction like this before.

His wolf knows what it wants. And right now, it is single-minded in its pursuit.

It wants more. It craves more. It desires to mark her.