Bite Me (London Undead) Read Online Free PDF Page A

appreciative of his rangy, well-toned torso now that he’d set her down and she could get a good look at the whole package. Lord help her. She’d been alone for too long.
    He walked away.
    “Oy.” She waited for him to pause, not sure he would. “I am sorry about shooting you. If you come back to my clinic, I can clean that out so it heals proper.”
    Werewolves healed fast, she’d heard, and the evidence of it was right before her eyes. Bleeding had stopped and his flesh was closing over the wound. Still, it’d heal ugly if it wasn’t thoroughly cleaned out. She hadn’t been using hollow points, so he might even have a few fragments in his flesh. The bullet wound had to be more painful than he was letting on.
    He stood motionless for a long moment, then bent and retrieved something from the shadows beneath a tree. She came close to retracting her offer and leaving, but then he returned, pulling on a coat as he did. “It’ll set us even. Wait another moment.”
    Pulling a mobile from his back pocket, he tapped in a quick text message, his thumbs nimble on the tiny phone’s keyboard. Hard for her to fathom after she’d seen those same hands rip dead bodies to pieces.
    Finished, he looked up from the mobile, the light from the screen casting odd shadows across his face. Eerie. “The next patrol will check on that family. The wolves will pick up their trail here and follow them to be sure they all made it to a safe shelter.”
    Maisie cocked her head. Did he realize he looked like a figure from a bad horror movie? A handsome one, at least, but still. Best not to tell him, probably. She smiled up at him instead. “Ready?”
    “Let’s go.”

Chapter Three
    Seth stopped short as they turned onto the tiny side street. She’d said it was right there, but all he saw was an animal clinic.
    Temper boiled up in his chest. He gritted his teeth and balled up his fists, every muscle in his throat tensing in the effort to hold back the growl threatening to roll loose.
    “All right, then?” Maisie halted, turned toward him slowly. She studied him with clear grey eyes, her shoulders relaxed, passive. No scent of fear, even as he glared at her. Even his wolves were afraid when his anger washed over them, but not her. Focusing on the oddity helped him let the anger go.
    “Really? Are you putting me on?”
    She glanced to the simple, worn sign over the clinic. Her delicate brows drew together and she pressed her lips in a thin line. “Look, it’s better than you trying to go home and wash it out under the kitchen faucet. I have all the tools I need here and the same cleaning supplies and disinfectants they’d use at a human clinic. Plus you won’t have to go through the usual hoops they make humans go through for health care and other rubbish. Anyway, don’t they try to have a police escort around before they treat you lot? You’d have to wait even longer.”
    He couldn’t fault her logic there. He’d had more than enough of the ignorant comments blinkered people made. Even gone public, most wolves kept the fact to themselves. Like religion, the state of being a werewolf was for close, trusted friends only. A man’d have to be daft or barmy to broadcast it to the general public.
    Probably get himself shot for the trouble of all that honesty, as well.
    “Oh, come on then, I can’t stay on my feet all night.” She hooked her pinky in his and tugged him along as easily as any stubborn child.
    And he let her.
    How long had it been since anyone, human or Were, had trusted him with so delicate a touch as hers? Most wouldn’t give him their hand for fear he’d pulverize the fine bones. Or maybe they thought he’d rip their arm off. But here she was, limping along on her crutch and dragging him behind her.
    A pang of guilt hit him in the gut. He was a right bastard for making her stand there so long.
    “You’ve been on your leg too much.” He didn’t have to pose it as a question. Her complexion had gone pale under