Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
The smells of dirt and blood fill the car, but more than that is the fear that radiates from the pups. My heart aches at the memory of their terror-filled eyes. My poor niece and nephew. I want to climb into the back with them, but they sleep easier together just the two of them, so there’s no room to lay…that and I feel frozen in my seat with this stranger’s sharp silver eyes on me.
I don’t understand. I don’t know what to think. A small part of me is relieved to be away from Shadow, but the rest of me is terrified of the unknown. I have no clue what’s going on and it’s hard to be grateful when I know a worse fate could be waiting for me.
“Who are you?” I dare to ask, the questions and thoughts scream in my head, demanding answers. My whispered question finally breaks the silence.
I don’t remember him from my old pack; I have no memory of him at all. My eyes fall as I realize he couldn’t have come from my pack; they’re all dead. The lump grows thicker in my dry throat, and I struggle to take a breath of air.
I need to keep myself together for the pups’ sake, but I start to tremble as I realize I’ve given this shifter control by getting in this car with him. I’m at his mercy and I have no idea why he’s come for me. I’m reminded of my vulnerability as the pup growing inside of me kicks against my ribs. I close my eyes and wince as I absorb the painful blow. My little wolf. As the pinching pain subsides, the hint of relief comes over me. He’s okay. My baby is okay. We’ve survived this long, we can make it another day. My hand finds my belly and I close my eyes for a brief moment of calm. Just one day at a time.
The werewolf’s large hands twist on the wheel and the movement and sound have my eyes darting to him once again. He looks at me from the corner of his eye again.
“Jude.” His low, baritone voice sends a shot of heat through me, and an unwarranted desire heats my core. My heart sputters in my chest. I have no clue where that came from; I have no right to be feeling this way toward him. He’s a beast of a man, taking up space with his broad shoulders. His chiseled jaw looks rough with its stubble.
As I find myself eyeing him, my breathing shallows and I clear my throat while I readjust in my seat. It protests my movement with a groan and instinctively I look back to check on the children. The movement is accompanied with another pang of pain. One that is short lived but other pains shine through. My lower back is killing me and I can’t get comfortable. Not that being uncomfortable is unusual at this point in my pregnancy.
Jude pushes a button on the dash of his car. “Give it a minute to heat the seat”—his eyes find mine—“it’ll help with the pain.”
His voice is full of concern. It’s kind of him to care, but he’s already done enough.
Something about his tenor makes me feel at ease, like it’s going to be all right. As the seat warms, he’s right, it eases the pain. I’m slow to relax, but then I find myself staring at the side of his gorgeous face. He’s handsome yet rugged. There’s mud on the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, traveling up to his high cheek bones; he’s classically handsome with his short, dark hair and piercing silver eyes. He turns to look at me and I shift in my seat to stare out of the window and avoid his questioning gaze.
As the heat slowly warms my back, I feel a radiating ache travel from my lower back down to the front of my thighs. I push both my palms against my legs to alleviate the pain while my eyes close tightly and my toes curl. I hold in my whimper and breathe out deeply. It’s not that bad of a pain and it’s not the first time I’ve felt it. I’ve learned to be as quiet as I can. They’ve been coming and going this past week. As the pain subsides, I relax back into the seat. Jude’s watching me instead of the road, which makes me uneasy.
“I’m fine.” I push the words out as the uncomfortable sensation wanes.
“You’re not.” His words are low and absolute.
“I am. They’re just Braxton Hicks. They’re fake contractions.” I lower my gaze to my scraped knees which have mostly healed. “I promise it’s nothing more.” I don’t think he would go through all this trouble to kick me out of his car if I were to go into labor, but I don’t want to risk it. I’m getting close to the end of my pregnancy, but it’s been hard tracking the weeks. The lonely days have blurred together and I’m not even sure at which point I came to carry Shadow’s young.