Ronnie scrambles to his feet as Emmett regains his.
Ronnie's fury is now focused on Emmett. He advanced, crowbar held high, ready to bash the damn dog's brains in.
Emmett puts himself between Lyssa and Ronnie, hackles raised, eyes blazing, growling, snarling. Damn his ribs hurt but there was no way he was letting the male anywhere near Lyssa.
He could kill him, easily, and, oh, how he wanted to. But Lyssa was not part of the pack. She would probably be horrified and would have to explain the body.
Restraint. Restraint.
The crowbar comes down and he sidesteps the swing. The male was neither graceful nor particularly fast in his state.
The tines catch in the carpet and, as he tries to yank it away, Emmett grabs his arm. Ronnie yelps as teeth find his skin and drops the crowbar.
Emmett stands over it, growling.
He looks up at Lyssa, holding his arm. "Your fuckin' dog BIT ME!"
Lyssa comes closer, holding the phone, her voice hard and icy. "You screwed up big time, Ronnie. I just have to push this button and the cops'll be on their way."
"Dog could be dead and maybe you too before they get here."
"Without the crowbar, Ronnie? Besides, Emmett won't let you anywhere near me."
"Not after I call animal control, Lys."
Ronnie glares at her. "Get out, Ronnie. And don't ever, ever, come back, or you might be the one the cops find."
Emmett backed Ronnie out the door and stood there until Lyssa shut and locked it.
He peered in the small window. "Once I get rid of the damn dog, you're mine."
Emmett stayed on guard, ears swiveling, until the truck roared down the road. He then relaxed, and nudged Lyssa to the couch.
She had some steel in her, which he was glad to see. If she were weak she'd never be allowed into the pack, no matter how much he wanted her.
Lyssa sat heavily on the couch with the phone in her hand.
Emmett sat on the floor, looking at her, and whined.
She mechanically put the phone in the cradle and her eyes go down to Emmett.
"Come up here." She pats the couch beside her.
He jumps up and she throws her arms around him and buries her face against his shoulder.
She was shaking. "Thank you, Em. Thank you."
He groaned. Those ribs hurt.
As they sat there he decided to take action, although the pose was a bit awkward. He changed position as he shifted, pulling her into his lap and against his chest.
Quietly. "I won't let him hurt you."
She looks up at him. "You're real."
He smiles. "You should sleep."
He stands, holding her in his arms as if she were a child, then carries her up the stairs to her bedroom.
With her arms wrapped around his neck, he pulls the bedcovers down. He then lays her on the bed and, gently, pulls off her shoes. He looks at her a moment, and she at him, as he pulls the blankets over her.
As he comes back upright, she notices the large, dark bruise on his left side. She throws the covers back off and sits up. "Oh, god, Emmett. We need to get you to the doctor."
"It's alright, Lyssa. I'll be fine."
"You could have internal bleeding." She starts pulling her shoes back on.
He takes her shoulders, gently, and stops her. "I've had worse injuries sparring with some of the other males. And I heal quickly. I'll be fine."
She looks up at him, unsure. "Doesn't it hurt?"
He chuckles. "Of course it hurts. But, with a good meal, it'll be gone tomorrow."
"Are you hungry? I could..."
He kisses the top of her head. "Sweetheart, I can get a meal if I choose to. I do know how to get into the refrigerator. But, right now, I want you to get some rest. Please, lay back down."
She slides back into the bed and he covers her back up. "I'll keep watch."
Her eyes follow him as he settles into a chair opposite her. "Won't you be cold?"
He smiles. "No."
She bites her lower lip. It looks so endearing he has to fight his impending hardness with thoughts of gay male porn. He closes his eyes to focus on the images as a small sound comes to him. "Um." He opens his eyes to her. "You could come up here with me."
Security. She'd feel so much better if he were closer.
She watched him cross the three steps to the bed and climb atop it. He lies beside her, with the bedclothes separating them, and brushes her hair away from her face. "There. Now. Sleep."
She looks at him in wonder and closes her eyes.
Hot. It was so hot under the covers.
Over the course of the night she divests herself of her clothing. Pants. Shirt. T-shirt. Socks. Left only in a bra and panties, she's still too warm.
She tries to throw off the comforter and is unable. Something heavy is holding it to her.
His arm.
He's asleep beside her, with an arm thrown over her chest.
She pushes at the arm, mumbling, "I thought you were supposed to be watching."
Without opening his eyes, he rumbles, "I am. I haven't smelled or heard anything amiss. Do you always roll around so much?"
"I'm hot."
He cracks an eye at her and shifts slightly. "Sorry. Probably my fault."
She throws the comforter off and he rolls up beside her again. Before she can ask he responds, "My body temperature is higher than yours." He looks at the window. "Still another hour before dawn." And closes his eyes again.
She looks at him briefly, then closes hers, too.
As the horizon turns pink and lightens, he rolls to his back and stretches, groaning.
She curls up on her side and grumbles. He chuckles, "Not an early riser?"
"Have somebody come after you with a crowbar and have somebody else tell you they're a werewolf and see how well you sleep, especially next to a furnace."
He smiles at her.
The look in his eyes makes her warmer still. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Or, maybe she did know..
She shakes herself lightly when he addresses her again.
"Would you mind if I took a shower?"