Choices Read Online Free Page A

courtyard.
    Reaching the narrow corridor, she gripped the corner of the building, breath tearing through her lungs. She lurched around the corner—and let out a cry when fingers shackled her wrist and jerked her backward.
    Wolf trapped her against the brick, his hand moving up to circle her throat. Any thought of struggling died as he leaned in, those vivid blue eyes furious.
    “Going somewhere?” His low, accented voice scared her far more than if he’d shouted at her.
    “I—”
    “Did you think you would survive out here on your own, outworlder?” He slid his hand down her left arm and yanked her off the wall. “I made a promise, and whether I want to or not, I intend to keep you safe until I can send you back where you belong.”
    She tried to swallow the scream when he dragged her after him down the corridor. It escaped as her leg finally gave up on her.
    With a curse Wolf caught her before she hit the ground.
    “Where.”
    “My—leg.” She recoiled when he touched it. “God―”
    “You can pray to your God that my captain did not see you in the terminal. He’ll be of no other use to you here.” Maura stared up at him, stung by the bitterness in his voice. “Do you have a place?”
    “Not here.” She swallowed, grief lodged in her throat. Not anywhere.
    Wolf picked her up, his grip gentler than she expected.
    “Then we will find you a place.” His accent washed over her, soothing, familiar. It left her heart aching. “And you will tell me who you really are.”
     
    * * *
     
    T he place turned out to be Wolf’s quarters. Stark and bare as everything else she had seen here, it drove home the fact that she was in a different world. And from what she’d witnessed so far, a dangerous one.
    He settled her on the sofa, his hands gentle with her injured leg. His height finally registered as he stood over her, a disheveled, earthbound god, his black uniform vibrant against the colorless living room. He brushed one hand through shoulder length hair. The color reminded her of the cinnamon-streaked alabaster bookends Dad had bought in Mexico—
    She choked off the thought.
    God—when do the memories stop hurting?
    “Maura.” His quiet, accented voice filtered through her grief, weighted it. Fighting past it, she met his eyes. No anger this time, only badly concealed exhaustion. He eased the bag off her shoulder and knelt in front of her. “Let me see that leg.”
    His fingers brushed against one of the cuts as he started to unknot the bandage. She jerked away from him, away from the burn of contact, skidding off the slick cushion. In one swift, graceful move he caught her around the waist and resettled her. Closing her eyes, she tried not to throw up as pain bounced around her skull. “Can you sit on your own?”
    “Yes.”
    With aching symmetry, every muscle in her body cramped simultaneously, then let go. She slumped against the hard, curved back of the sofa as warm air caressed her leg. Wolf cursed, long and low, and Maura found herself admiring the sheer variety.
    “Who tended this?”
    “No one you would know.”
    “He comes within reach and I will make myself known.”
    She opened her eyes, studied him as he bent over her leg. This man, with his gentle hands, was worlds away from the cold, furious cop who trapped her against a wall and threatened—
    “Ouch—what are you doing?”
    Wolf looked up at her, bloody gauze in one hand. “Fixing this mess.”
    “Could you fix it without killing me in the process?”
    The corner of his mouth twitched. “I will endeavor to keep you intact.”
    His flippant answer surprised a smile out of her. “See that you do.”
    The twitch deepened. “As you will, child.”
    She watched him carefully unwrap her leg, focused on his hands to keep from shrieking every time he peeled bandage off skin. Four jagged white scars striped his fingers and the back of his right hand, disappearing under the cuff of his uniform. As if something—or someone—had clawed