Jett's Wild Wolf (Mystic Wolves 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

backroom kept his wolf from rearing its head. His body ached from the inside out, but he was glad to be alive. The last memory he had was the surety of his own death as the tainted wolf chomped down on him, like something out of an episode of the Walking Dead.
    He wanted to shift and hunt down the bastards, but didn’t think he could do much more than lift his head. Not that he thought his pack would’ve allowed the bastard to walk away. When he was sure he wouldn’t embarrass himself, he opened his eyes. A light from the bathroom had been left on, illuminating a small section of the large office. He could see clearly with or without the light, but the glow highlighted a small figure sleeping in one of the recliners, he recognized her slight frame as the young woman from the bar. He also knew she smelled like spiced honey before he even inhaled. Her dark hair with that streak of purple made him hard. Hell, everything the woman did got him hard.
    When he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, he took a deep breath, and sat up. He did a quick assessment of his injuries, shocked to find he had none. Shifters healed fast, but he’d never seen anyone who’d suffered what he had, and gotten up without any visible signs. The scent of blood overlaying the sweet smell of the young woman had his wolf rising to the front, clawing to claim its mate. He pushed back, not wanting to think about what that meant. He wasn’t ready to claim anyone, let alone a possible enemy.
    Once he was sure his legs would hold him, he made his way to where she lay in a reclined position, her chest moving up and down reassured him she lived. The leather jacket she wore was gripped in her crossed arms as if to ward off a cold chill. Jett felt anger stir at his pack for not giving her something to cover up with. Her shapely legs were on full display, the natural tan he assumed delineating her heritage. He took all this in within moments, then he was back across the office, jerking a blanket off the back of the couch, returning in seconds to cover her chilled flesh. He noticed an ID hanging out of her front pocket. Using two fingers, he pulled it out and read the name, Taryn Cole. Gorgeous name for even more of a knockout woman. The identification was for the library in town, and he wondered why she had it in her coat and not her driver’s license.
    He barely resisted the urge to bend down, and feel for himself if she was as soft as she appeared. Jett used all the self-control he possessed to take the much needed three steps back, and decided he needed a shower. His clothes were filthy, covered in blood and other shit he didn’t want to examine too closely. The pain that had burned through his flesh flashed through his mind, making him break out in a cold sweat. He walked away from the woman, trying not to pant, either from the memory of the attack or the idea of Taryn. Jett didn’t linger or allow himself to think about things he shouldn’t, washing quickly. As he stepped out of the shower, he realized he’d forgotten to grab the extra change of clothes he kept at the clubhouse. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he opened the door to the small bathroom, glad to see she still slept.
    With no clothes on he didn’t think it wise if she’d been awake for them to have a convo. It was hard enough for him to walk past the alluring scent of her, let alone try and talk. His cock jerked beneath the terrycloth. “Down boy,” Jett said, scrambling past Taryn to the wall of lockers.
    He let the towel drop, pulled open the door and located a pair of jeans and clean T-shirt. Jett looked over his shoulder, checking on their sleeping guest. Something in the vicinity of his heart twitched at the image of her in obvious distress. He didn’t like the smell of her blood mixed with the unique scent. After sufficiently dressing, he grabbed a bottle of water and walked back to where she slept, easing the jacket back from her shoulder. The torn and jagged wound made