The ride home was a lot longer than the ride into the city. Thank goodness.

The driver had some pop music on and I just stared out the window. The quiet life before a cellphone was in your hand at all times was quite monotonous, but in this moment, very welcome.

He dropped me off at home and as I pulled the spare key from under a garden gnome, I heard a wolf howl. It was not quiet.

Big bad wolves knew I was home now.

I turned to invisi-Adam and waved my fingers.

But as I thought about his last warning, I gulped and ran inside.

I locked the windows and doors and made a mental note of where my rifle was if needed. Adam said I'd be good as long as no late-night hikes were on the agenda though.

When the house was secure, I stuffed myself down in my fluffy blankets ready to continue reading my nightly book.

An hour later and a few chapters in, I sat up straight, alarm bells going off in my head.

I tried to listen to any wolf fights that were going on right outside, but the woods were silent. Delicately, I placed my feet off the side of the bed and tried to figure out why I was feeling like that. Something was up. Were they okay? Was I going to be okay?

"Elise!" Adam!

He began banging on my front door.

"Elise! Get up."

I tossed myself off the bed and ran to the door. Something was wrong!

Opening it wide, I gasped. My eyes broadened in shock as Adam stood there easily carrying a giant black wolf against his bare chest. The wolf was laying limp and hurt, a knife carved deep in his shoulder. Both coated in blood.

"I can explain!" He bellowed.

I looked to Adam, fear running through my eyes. "Is that Nate?"

He stunned still for a moment and then nodded, composing himself. "Yes." His voice was loud and urgent. "The knife went deep."

Another gasp. "Quick, get him in the second bedroom."

Adam hauled Nate-wolf into my grandparents' old room and to the queen bed. I started a mixing bowl filling with warm water and grabbed all the towels from under the sink. When the water filled, I grabbed everything and ran to sit on the bed next to Nate.

I studied the wolf as I put the water on the side table. He wasn't thrashing. He wasn't moving. There were slashes everywhere, seeping deep into dark fur. His eyes weren't even open, but there was movement at his chest. He was alive.

"You'll have to take the knife out." Adam looked at me imploring.

I grimaced, "is it silver?"

He went still another moment, then nodded.

Did I really have to do it? Couldn't Adam like wrap a towel around it and pull it out himself?

"Okay." I took a deep breath and yanked. It was brutally deep, and I couldn't get it with a single pull. I ultimately had to saw it out.

Nate-wolf didn't even flinch as the blade unsheathed. It was double the length I thought it would be and covered in gore. I tossed it to the nightstand and began holding towels at the new gush of blood.

"I have a suture kit. It's in cold storage. Fourth shelf. Big white box. The access is..."

But he already ran off. I turned back to the wolf and to staunch the new flow of redness. It seeped clear into the blankets below.

Not even ten seconds had past when Adam had the kit and started expertly going through it.

I tossed a spent towel to the ground and placed another over the wound. Holding tight with one hand I wet a towel with another and started wiping the blood from the wolf's face and neck. That's when I noticed the purple streak.

I said my first ever cuss word.

"What?" He looked up from setting the kit out, wholly alarmed.

I pressed another towel into the wound and then ran for the front coat closet. "I need keys Adam! Where did he hide them!? Now!" I grabbed a giant blue bin and turned to Adam behind me holding my truck keys. "Okay, let's go. You're driving." I forced my bare feet into the closest shoes I could find.

He didn't object, just raced out to the truck to start it before I was even off the porch. I popped in beside him and pointed the road beyond the goat pen. "Go! Now!"

He took off and I began digging through the box. "What are we doing?!"

"It was wolfsbane poisoning. Maybe the knife had some on it. We can't close the wound yet. We need honey and I used all my supply. Ugh! Why didn't I save one jar for emergencies!?" I pulled a tin teakettle out and started trying to light the smoke plug inside.

"What's that?" His words were as hurried as mine.

"A smoker. It'll calm the bees, but it takes a second to get going." I held my hand out the window with it, so smoke wouldn't fill the cab. I tried rummaging through the box with my other hand for gloves. I put one on guiding with my teeth. Then I switched the smoker and put the other glove on. "There!" I pointed as we came upon a tower of boxes. "Stop the car."

I opened the cab door and practically fell outside. I put the smoker down and raced into the bee suit, tucking my wrists and pants around as quickly as I could.

It still wouldn't be enough.

What did my grandfather always say? Never bug the bees at night. And always go in happy.

Frantic at midnight it is.

Bee suit or not. I was about to be stung.

I grabbed the long bristle brush from the bin and then tossed the bin in the cargo bed.

"Turn the truck around and then turn off the lights. The full moon will be enough light for me to get back and then they won't attack you. Close all the windows. I'll just jump in the back when we're ready to go."

I'll jump in the back because I'll be covered with bees. I gulped.

"This is wrong, isn't it? You're going to get hurt."

"There's no time to argue. We'll just deal with it later."

"But you're allergic!"

"Stay in the truck!" I just closed the door and grabbed the smoker. I didn't look up to see his probable irate expression.

I went in on the bees and he did what I asked.

I pressed the smoker over the hive but still it wasn't enough to stop the swarm of anger that surrounded me when the top went off.

Ouch. One already at my left wrist. I must not have tucked the suit in well enough in my haste.

I started smoking the wax frames and pulled one out. Not filled enough.

Another out.

Ouch.

Not enough on that frame either.

The bees started swarming over my veil. Third frame would have to do, filled or not. I puffed smoke around my veil for just a moment then brushed the bees away from the cover. I replaced the top.

Ouch. Ouch.

I smokered all around me, trying to calm the bees off me. Trying to be as gentle as I could but I was still being swarmed.

Ouch.

I brushed the bees from the wax frame and then ran back to the truck. I hopped in the back and tossed the frame into the bin, covering the top so the scent wouldn't keep the bees after it. I smokered around me some more and then sat down, knocking the cab window. "Go!"

Adam started the drive back to the house and all the while I brushed bees from my suit.

Ouch.

When he parked in front of the house, I stripped the suit there, Ouch, grabbed the bin and ran inside.

I opened the bin and grabbed out the frame. I sliced the wax off the top of the comb and then cut out a large chunk. Honey stuck to my hand as I grabbed the whole piece and ran to the bedroom.

The towel was soaked through.

"Nate? I'm going to put this on your shoulder. It should help draw out the wolfsbane."

I breathed a gasp when I uncovered the wound. The lines already climbed into his neck and down to his abdomen. I didn't know how long wolfsbane took to kill a wolf, but it looked like it would work pretty fast. I pressed the sticky square of comb and honey into his wound, but his wolf made no movement. The paralyzation factor from the silver was still wearing on.

I breathed in ragged deep breaths. That was as much as we could do.

Now we just had to wait.

I began to clean around the wound again, the water barely warm still, and packed the outer area with another towel.

My sullen eyes came up to Adam's. "We should let that sink into the wound before we close it up. Maybe a few minutes? An hour? I have no precedent for wolf wounds."

He softened and came to lightly take my hand. "Come on. Let's get your stings cleaned up while we wait."

He guided me to the kitchen and sat me back on a kitchen chair. His knife came out of his pocket. I tried not to stare at the blood on his muscular bare chest and on the knife instead.

He took my hand in his and my stomach warmed at the tenderness. He started pressing out the stingers of the three stings on my wrist and up my left forearm.

"Will this many stings be a problem?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the work.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I haven't had this many since I was eight. I think my grandmother said I had flu like symptoms: fever, aches, pains, chills, that kind of thing?"

I didn't say I'd be fine this time.

He nodded and reached for my other wrist, working on the sting just above the tree bark scrapes.

"I'll be in for a rough couple of nights at least. Even one sting can keep me awake."

He stood and I watched his movements as he bent beside me.

I continued. "The honey still should help."

His fingers pushed carefully at my jawline, and I let him tilt my head. He slid my hair away deliberately and I shivered at the ticklish touch. He then pulled my collar aside and took his time at the sting just at the base of my neck. His soothing touches melted away the discomfort.

I couldn't speak as he sat back in the chair and pulled my right foot into his lap. He took off the shoe in some sweet reverse Cinderella action and worked on the sting on my ankle.

He stopped a moment, his warm hands still curved under my ankle, and I swallowed. The air was quiet, and he gazed against the far wall in thought.

I didn't disturb him for a minute, thinking he was mind linking with someone, but the thumb of his hand holding the knife started unconsciously drawing up and down over my foot.

I pulled my foot from his grasp and placed it gently down on the ground. "Thanks. I'll ... grab the honey now."

"Wait," his intense blue eyes came back to mine in a heated gaze. "You have one more. On your thigh."

I hadn't even noticed before that moment.

I gulped. "Well, I guess I can get the stinger from that one." My embarrassment flared at the idea of pulling my pants down in front of Adam. No wonder he hesitated.

"No." He scooted forward in his chair, and I observed him warily, my breaths getting rapid. Then his eyes traveled to my thigh, and he pressed a finger slowly around the exact spot of the sting in a wide arc.

I watched mesmerized as a wolf claw appeared and disappeared, noting the fabric from my leggings cut but not a trace of touch had been into my skin.

My heart raced in my chest as he opened the material to show both a sting and long scar. I bit at my lip as we stared at the ugly jagged white line. "That's my..."

He interrupted.... "the apple tree fall."

"Yes."

So he was listening yesterday. Was he really standing over my house for two days straight? I stared at the old wound down my thigh. I should have gone to the hospital, but I didn't really have insurance at the time. So I plowed through two stitches on myself, gave up and tried to keep it clean and covered. Really, I was old enough to just grab a dumb ladder than to climb the tree like a silly child and risk falling.

The opening at my thigh was wide enough to show the scar completely and I realized it may have been cut that way intentionally.

"Did you mean to cut enough away to see it?"

"Yes."

"How did you know where it was?"

"You said your thigh."

"But I have two ...thighs?" What was I questioning if I had two legs now? Idiot.

He shrugged. "Fifty-fifty guess."

I guess that was true. But, what did he care? It was just a story I was telling when I thought he was invisible. "It's just a scar."

"I wanted to see it. It would have hurt you for a long time."

"Oh." I responded still confused. I contemplated when I was talking about it right before my text with Timothy. How much had I said about it? Did I tell him how bad my fall was? That it did really hurt me, and I was limping for like weeks? Did I even tell him where the scar on my thigh it was? I couldn't remember how far into the story I had gotten, the nerves of Tim's call erasing any memory.

He finished pressing out the stinger and wiped it on his pants.

"Come here." He stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me from the chair and to the sink. He guided our hands and arms under a stream of warm water and began to wash the wolf blood away. My hands were shaking with shock and his glided down mine pressing the redness down the drain. It was soothing and felt wonderful even though his fingertips brushed against the new stings. I dared think it was more calming to my nerves than the massage had been.

"Should I get ice for you? Or is honey better?" He asked pulling a clean hand towel and drying our hands.

I looked to my throbbing wrist where the three stings together were already swelling. "Probably ice for a minute."

He pressed me back down in the kitchen chair. "Just tell me where you keep everything."

He busied himself making a few ice bags and then situated me so that all bags stayed where they were needed. I cringed at the coolness, until the pains started to fade.

"I'll go check on Nate."

I gave a bashful smile, my head tilting around the ice pack at my neck. "I'll stay here," I joked. Like I could move covered in five balancing ice bags.

Only a second of a pitiful cracked smile hit before he strode back to my grandparent's bedroom.

While covered in painful bee stings and surely to have some rough days ahead, I couldn't say that I was mad at myself for coming back to the house. It was a good thing after all. Who would have been able to get the honey needed for Nate's wolfsbane poisoning? Nate and Adam must have figured out the honey helped, but would they have even known to get it from the hive? Could they have even gotten it from the hive? Maybe a wolfsbane bee sting would be worse for wolves. Either way, Nate could have died. Silver and wolfsbane? Milo was out to kill.

After minutes of silence, Adam was taking longer than I imagined a check would be, and my neck was starting to get sore holding my head tilted, so I decided that was long enough for ice. I put the packs back in the freezer and proceeded to the sink to take a pain reliever.

The honeycomb was still on the counter, so I cut off another uncapped piece of comb and tapped it upside down on a plate.

I thumbed through the sticky honey and dabbed it on a wrist sting.

"Let me do that," Adam appeared behind me, taking bloodied suture gloves off. He must have taken the time doing Nate's stitches.

"Oh, it's okay. I may not be able to stab the stingers out, but I can dab honey."

"You can't reach."

My eyes came down in confusion. "I can't reach what? My ankle?"

"Sit," he commanded.

I reacted to his insistence and followed orders. A level of shock was still wearing through my system, so I didn't want to argue.

He ended up doing just what I would have done, dabbed honey on my stings, but I'd hand it to him. He most certainly did it better than I could have. His touch was so much softer, almost even a caress. Each sting surrounded delicately by his warmth but making my muscles feel tighter not looser.

I had to say something to break my tension. "Should you be getting back to the fight?"

"No." He took my ankle in his lap again, focused on the task.

"What about Nate? Will him being here be bad?"

"No. Cassandra is in command."

"She is?"

A single nod.

A pause in conversation until Adam moved up my thigh.

"How was everything going when you left?"

"We had the upper hand right away. When they realized that, they brought out weapons. Our side is doing well now."

My head tilted. "Now-now, in your head? Or when you left?"

He looked up, gauging my reaction. "Now. I can hear them."

"Right," I nodded and looked back down. My glance hovered over my left wrist. The extra stings already starting to grow the purple lines of wolfsbane poisoning. Shoot. That hand was going to give me problems if the veins were already showing.

His eyes followed my gaze and furrowed his brow at the incoming violet. "Why don't you try to sleep. It's late."

"Okay." I thought about arrangements. "Do you want to take my bed? I can take the couch. I'm smaller."

"No, I'm not sleeping." He lifted my arm and helped me to a standing position. "I need to stay in contact with the rest. And make sure Nate is healing."

"Alright." I nodded and stepped to my room. "Thanks for taking care of me then," I said bashfully, closing the door.

"You're welcome, Miss Winters."

I changed into a fresh t shirt and long shorts and laid in bed. It was hard to get comfortable with sticky honey dabs all over my body, but I did eventually find a position that let me drift.

But I woke myself up sometime later with my own whimper of pain. When my eyes came open, I realized my breathing was labored and my face hot and soaked with beads of sweat. My head pounded and my limbs ached where every sting was seared into me. More whimpers of discomfort left me, and I twisted in the covers. But I realized I was much too fevered to use them and tossed them to the floor.

"Miss Winters?" Adam softly knocked.

"I'm alright," yes it was a lie, but I was so tired and aching I didn't want to go into it.

He opened the door and peeked inside. "Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a water?" I conceded, sitting up.

He nodded and disappeared from the cracked door. I tried to wipe the sweat away from my face.

He reappeared a moment later, coming in with a glass. He handed it to me along with a fever pill.

I took both and drank a few sips, downing the pill. "Thanks," I said tiredly.

He studied me a minute and then grabbed my worse hand, squatting down by my side. The swelling and lines evident even in the little light filtering through from the front room.

Laying back down against the pillow, I slid far against the edge of the bed to allow him to continue his check. The warmth at his hands a different, comforting wolf heat, than those of the stuffy blankets.

"Adam?" My eyes closed sleepily.

"Yes?"

"You can call me Elise. You did at the door."

"I think it's best if I don't."

"You don't like my name?"

"No, I do." A pause. "It's just more respectful calling you your surname."

"Oh? Okay. Guess that's nice too."

My mind drifted as he started following the wolfbane lines, tracing each with his finger. I concentrated on that touch instead of the burn and noticed myself starting to fall back asleep.