Taming the Heart (Creatures of the Night Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

her eyes and shuddered. They had almost looked… human and filled with blood. They were blood red and glowing with… anticipation.
    “That’s crazy. This whole thing is crazy. There are no such things as werewolves,” she said aloud as she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.
    She turned her head away before she stuck her injured arm below the stream of warm water. She screamed out loud as it stung something terrible. Gritting her teeth she forced herself not to jerk away. She need the wound clean.
    She saw some dial body wash on the side of the tub and reached for it. There were a few clean wash clothes sitting on the back of the toilet so she grabbed one. Using her good hand, she worked lather up and, still refusing to look at the wound, she began to scrub around the open area as close as she dare.
    Finally, she prepared herself before she stuck her arm under the water yet again. It was more agonizing than the first time. It felt like the water was running right down to her bone. When she reached up to turn off the water, her breathing was ragged and she was shaking all over. All the towels were up on a high rack above the tub. She used the riffle to reach up and knock some down. She quickly pressed a few of the towels against her arm before she opened the first aid kit.
    She laughed at herself more heartily now. What did she think she was going to do against the open gashes in her arm? Open one of these little iodine napkins and press it against the wound? Put a bandage on it? Wrap it in the puny gauze? Tape it up?
    She threw the stupid kit away from her and lowered her head to her chest. She had been driving all day, had been in an accident, had been bitten, been kidnapped, and had lost her sister… Tired was not the word to describe what she was.
    Using some of the towels she cushioned her back and laid against the side of the tub holding her arm. Satisfied that the gun was pulled against her lap and pointed at the door, she allowed her eyes to close and was swept away into blessed darkness.
    *                            *                            *
    Braden sat up in one of his favorite watching trees and he listened. He listened to the sounds of the night, of the earth settling in on its self and recuperating from the day. There were things sleeping, and things slinking and stalking, but he breathed in the cooler night time scents with relish. He was glad, not for the first time, that since he’d had to be reassigned he had been reassigned to this portion of the US and Canada as opposed to some place like the South or, God forbid, California.
    He looked towards the cabin where the woman was. The questions flew through his mind yet again, but there was no one to answer them. She should not be here, in his domain. She should either have been turned to a wolf or, and by far the more rare case, turned into a hunter. If she had turned into a wolf immediately then he would have killed her on the spot. If she had turned into a hunter on the spot, he may have torn her limb from limb and she would have fought for her life until the mentor came to rescue her. That hadn’t happened either.
    He closed his eyes and tried desperately to recall what had happened when he had turned. It was impossible. Most people thought that when you were immortal you had all these centuries of unlimited knowledge at your disposal. Unfortunately it just wasn’t true. The mind could only store so much memory, only so much information before it just disappeared. It was like asking a thirty year old to recall his birth, or asking a fifty year old to recall his first day of elementary school.
    The only reason Braden knew his birthday at all was because he had kept a journal as a human. It was so old now that it was a relic. He’d had it laminated to try and preserve it. Seasons came, and seasons went. Once every ten years or so he made a journal, a short cataloguing of events,