Bailey Bradford - Southwestern Shifters 07 - Revolution Read Online Free PDF Page A

his legs and kept him trudging on.
“Can you read the signs? Any idea where we are?” Jamie asked as they finally reached civilisation. Luuk wished he wasn’t so out of it. He’d have liked to enjoy Jamie’s excitement, something he couldn’t do since Jamie was too worried about him.
“Polish,” Luuk said, squinting hard. He thought that was right, but his vision was for shit right now. “Wroclaw, I think.” It didn’t really matter, because Luuk was beginning to fear this would be where he died.
“No you won’t, don’t even think that!” Jamie shouted, or it seemed so to Luuk. Then the world went dark and the pain stopped, and his last thought was he’d failed his mate once again.
    “No no no no no!” Jameson yelled, reaching for Luuk with his other hand to keep him from toppling over. Luuk wasn’t dead, Jameson could feel him, inside. Luuk was the reason his heart still beat.
    Jameson hefted Luuk onto his shoulder, terrified for his mate. Luuk, always so strong, so determined, wasn’t dead yet—no—but he wasn’t long for this world. Jameson had no desire to exist without him, and anyway, he didn’t think his wolf would make it without its mate. Both of them would die of a broken heart, unless he figured out how to save Luuk.
    As it turned out, Wroclaw, if that was where they were, wasn’t a small town. It seemed huge to Jameson, who hadn’t really been out of the wilderness in three years or so. Everything about the place set his teeth on edge. He didn’t know the language, or where the local pack was—he would bet there was one, though—or how to find one goddamned thing they needed.
    The only thing familiar to him was a church, and Jameson, never a religious man, was loath to go inside it. However, Luuk was shaking so hard Jameson was scared he was going to drop him, and he was freezing his balls off. He was worried about frostbite for Luuk, along with everything else, so Jameson stumbled towards the large structure and hoped the doors weren’t locked. Even if they could just go inside and get warm, maybe it would help.
    Jameson made it to the top step, having no recall of climbing the stairs. “We’re almost there, Luuk. Just hang on for me. Hang on for me,” Jameson muttered, aching for some reassurance from his mate. “Luuk, hang on,” he repeated louder, fear sharpening his voice and words.
The doors loomed large and Jameson wondered if he’d have the strength to pull one open. He edged closer and gripped the handle, the metal bitingly cold against his palm and fingers. A gentle tug and the door opened, warm air wafting past it to slap at him, stinging his skin.
“May I help you?” a rich baritone voice asked.
    Jameson blinked, unable to figure out how he understood Polish all of a sudden, when it dawned on him he was hearing heavily accented English and there was an old, stooped priest standing inside, looking all…priestly. Jameson supposed he was a priest, but what did he know? He might not be in a Catholic church, although he thought Poland was largely Catholic. With his luck he had stumbled into some Druidic temple where they sacrificed strangers.
    “I can see that you need help,” the old man said slowly, as if the words were unfamiliar, although it was probably just the language. “Bring him in—come, come.”
Jameson was too tired to question it so he stepped inside as the old man called out a name or…hell, he could be calling the police or the pack, Jameson wouldn’t have a clue.
A younger man, probably in his fifties, came out from a room at the back of the church. He took one look at them then rushed over, talking in a language Jameson didn’t understand for a few moments before turning to them.
“Father Piotr says you are in need of help.” He looked Jameson over then held out a hand. “I am Father Norbert, and we shall help you, but if you or the man you are carrying is in trouble with the law, we must know.”
Jameson shook his head. “Not the law, no.