Free Werewolf: Impossible Love by Emily Neily Page B

beloved childhood relic in her arms.
                  Tears rose in Serenity’s throat at the touch and the smell of Mr. Binky’s plush cotton fur. She hugged the teddy bear close and buried her face in its belly, muffling the sobs that rushed out of her chest.
                  The stranger snorted. “Guess I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. “Oh, also—your leg is fucked, so don’t try to walk on it. If it feels better, that’s because I dosed you good with some morphine.” He snorted again. “And, uh, I siphoned all your gas out and torched the car. Stuck some deer bones in there while I was at it.”
                  Serenity looked up at him and blinked. His intense grey eyes were fixed on her; his jaw was working beneath the short beard that edged his face.
                  “Feh. You don’t want to talk about it, do you?” He shook his head and turned to walk away. “Women.”
                  The stranger was right. The only thing on Serenity’s mind—well, besides a boatload of morphine—was how badly she wanted to relax and go back to sleep. She nestled against the pillows and held Mr. Binky close as she drifted off.
    ****
                  When the stranger woke her again, he had a giant plate of bacon and eggs balanced on one hand and a lantern in the other.
                  “I don’t know if you eat meat or not,” he said, “but, uh, you’re eating meat while you’re here.” He set the plate down on Serenity’s lap. “You need protein to heal your leg, and I ain’t got any soybeans up here.”
                  Serenity shook her head and scooted up. Her head wasn’t as foggy now, and she was aware of a powerful ache radiating through her leg. “Thanks,” she murmured, setting Mr. Binky on the bed next to her and staring at the plate. She had no appetite.
                  “Don’t worry about it,” the stranger replied. “Name’s Yandel, by the way.”
                  “Hi, Yandel.” She looked up at him, still too drug-dazed and tired to question where they were, why he had saved her, and what was going to happen next. “I’m Serenity.”
                  Yandel nodded. “Hi.” He gestured to the plate. “I’m serious. Eat or stay bedridden.”
                  Serenity picked up the tarnished, worn-handled silver fork he’d given her and cut off a tiny bite of egg. It was all she could do to get it down, but Yandel’s hard gray stare stayed fixed on her. By the time she finished both eggs and all four slices of bacon, the plate had gone as cold as his eyes.
                  “Good,” he said, taking the empty dish from Serenity. She watched him as he trudged across the log-sided room they were in. It was about the size of a garage, dimly lit by the curtain-covered window above her bed and a wood stove in the corner across from it. An old refrigerator was plugged in to the wall next to the stove; beside it was a countertop and a set of the ugliest industrial cabinets Serenity had ever seen.
    Yandel was quiet as he fixed her a cup of tea and brought it over. “You’ll meet the girl who makes this,” he said. “Just need to wait for the snow to quit so I can go get her.”
    “Where are we?” Serenity asked.
    “We are at my house,” he replied, handing her the cup. “You were lucky the snow came when it did—I would have been ten miles away from that gulch when you flipped your car.”
    “Are we close by, then?”
    “I was getting to that.” Irritation flicked across his face.
    “Sorry.” Serenity gripped the cup in both hands and took a sip.
    “We’re a good twelve miles from where you crashed,” he said. “ Thankfully, my mules know the way from there and wanted to get the hell home.”
    “Mules?”
              “I’m up here on an SUP from the Federal Gubmint,” Yandel replied with a