Free Forged: The World of Nightwalkers by Jacquelyn Frank

shutter, determine to power it closed on her own, delighted when it obeyed only to look up and spy his hand on the shutter above her head. Resisting the urge to stamp her foot and pout, she turned on him.
    “Get back inside! It’s too cold out here for you!” She eyed his naked body with purpose. Damn it, the man should at least have the decency to … umm … shrink from the cold like a normal man would.
    “Likewise,” he replied, taking her arm once more and ushering her inside whether she liked it or not. But since she was freezing her ass off she didn’t argue or resist, however she did use her apparently miniscule strength to tug him in her wake. Once she was indoors, she locked the shutters down and slammed the deck doors shut.
    “Get back in bed!” she commanded him, pointing for effect.
Yeah, that’s it. No nonsense. All business
. He’d have to take her serious in her well-practiced Nurse Ratchet voice. She’d gotten a lot of mileage from that voice, more than making up for her small stature with it.
    The bastard chuckled at her, even as he put a pained hand to his side, making her realize he was seeping blood again. It was crimson against his fingers.
    “You certainly are a wee pushy thing,” he drawled, his brogue rolling out of him in deep, sexy waves.
    Wait! No! Not sexy. Don’t even think about sexy!
God only knew who he was. God only knew
what
he was. She had no business looking at him like he was somehow attractive to her. He was a powerful stranger, possibly not even a human stranger. Powerful enough to be on his feet even though he was paper white from blood loss.
    If not human, then what?
    At her glare he held up conciliatory hands and made his way back toward her bed. He was limping, hunched slightly into his wounded side, clearly suffering pain. She wished then that she could have come up with some clever way of getting pain medication for him, but she hadn’t been able to think that far. His infection was much more insistently at the top of the list of things that needed to be dealt with. She couldn’t even think about the rest of the list right then, either, or she would be overwhelmed by it. The list of things she ought to be doing after finding herself a nursemaid to a dangerous, questionably human being. Like, call for help … run for the hills … or take a valium … something like that. She made herself take even, steady breaths and adopted an all-business attitude.
    “Be that as it may, I know best in this situation, and what I say goes. Especially because this is my house.”
    He gave her a measuring look right before he halted his progress toward the bed, turning around to tower over her. His height and his obvious strength were incredibly intimidating and she heard herself swallow. No doubt he did, too.
    “You’re a tiny, li’le thing,” he pointed out, his voice a low rumble. “But make no mistake. I’m a stranger in your house. Twice your size and a trained warrior. I do nothing I doona want tae do and you know nothing else abou’ me. For all you know I’m a serial killer, wee one. Dangerous and a risk I am. One that you, wee as you are, shouldna have taken on.”
    She scoffed. “I didn’t have much choice and neither did you. You would have bled to death and, by now, been covered in snow until the spring thaw! So don’t you try and bully me when I’m just trying to help!”
    “ ’Tis no’ bullying,” he said, his tone rough and seemingly a little angry. “ ’Tis a risk you shouldna have taken.”
    He listed suddenly, a grunt of pain escaping him as he reach blindly for the nearest object sturdy enough to brace himself against. There was none. None but her, and when he tried to straighten rather than use her to lean on, she thrust herself under his arm and against his good side.
    “Stop this,” she demanded of him, powering him toward the bed, realizing that he had weakened enough to where he didn’t have a choice but to obey. She got him to