Cannon opened his eyes slowly, wondering who belonged to the whispered words of comfort sounding in his ears. Slowly, the female, who sounded like an angel, came into focus.
That same glow surrounded her, as it had the Bears he’d been playing football with, but on her it seemed neither harsh nor glaring. It was soft, like firelight, and Cannon felt warm down to his toes.
“Room 3,” she said, turning her head so he could glimpse her profile.
“His name?”
“Chart says Cannon Bartolf,” one of the EMTs replied.
Damn, she was pretty. A golden-skinned seraphim, he thought, frowning at his sudden poetic turn of phrase. He must have hit his head harder than he’d originally thought.
“On my count, 1,2, 3—”
The dark-haired beauty was strong too, lifting him along with two EMTs from the gurney onto the hospital bed.
“Can you see me?” she asked, looking into his face and eyes with a penlight.
Her eyes were large, and almond shaped, but instead of brown, they were gray. A soft, beautiful dove gray that made her seem ethereal, unattainable, but that mouth of hers, plump lips unadorned by paint or Botox, they made her look all too real and naughty. The things he could do to that mouth, he sighed.
She was gorgeous. From the top of her long, thick, impossibly dark locks to the bottoms of her feet, he was sure, though he had no proof. She was tiny, though, way shorter than he was. But that wasn’t surprising. After all, Cannon could have gone pro if he wasn’t a Werewolf, he might have.
But it was one of those things, forbidden among Shifters, to enter into the human world of sports. The reasons were valid, if seemingly unfair. First of all, a human could not expect to better a supernatural in strength and endurance, it simply was not possible. The other thing was the need to protect the big secret that was the supernatural world which existed alongside the normals one.
Cannon wished he knew what she was, supe or normal. He was curious in a way he had not been about a female for years. If only his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode anytime he tried to concentrate.
Fuck.
Tiny must have hit him harder than he thought. He watched the doctor, all five feet three inches of her, race around his bed like a whirling dervish, shouting orders, and sticking this and that into his body. He hardly even felt the prick of the needles slicing through his skin.
She was too thin, he realized, and suddenly Cannon had the urge, the unimpeachable desire, to feed her.
What was that she had said upon seeing him? Oh, yeah— he thought, his eyelids starting to droop— she was going to take care of him.
Cannon warmed at the images that shuffled through his foggy head, and his Wolf growled appreciatively as he looked her over. What could he say? His baser nature was imagining all sorts of scenarios, most of which resulted in him burying his cock deep inside of her, fuck, he could make a home between her thighs and be perfectly content.
Grrrrr.
Of course, his human side was far more rational. He still wanted to fuck her, but the fact was, she needed taking care of. And Cannon had no doubt in his addled mind that he was the Wolf to do it.
Right after this nap….
“Mr. Bartolf, wake up, Mr. Bartolf!”
“Cannon,” he said, eyes widening for a moment. “Call me Cannon, Doc,” he mumbled.
“Your name is Cannon?” she asked, blinking her eyes with those impossibly dark lashes ever so slowly.
Cannon nodded his head, struck dumb by how fucking pretty she was— and what a huge fucking mistake that turned out to be.
His stomach objected to the sudden, sharp move, but his sweet little Doc seemed to understand. She grabbed a bedpan, forcing it under his face while rolling him to the side.
After he’d finished puking his guts out— very fucking attractive, he was sure— Cannon felt the room getting darker.
“No, no, Mr. Bartolf. Don’t you dare go to sleep,” the doctor ordered in a voice he wouldn’t mind hearing instructing him in bed.
“Sorry, Doc, I can’t help it,” he said, lifting one hand to touch her face.
“Damn, you’re pretty,” Cannon muttered just as he passed out.
Thank God for small favors, he thought.
If Cannon uttered another sentence showcasing his enormous stupidity, he just might die of embarrassment.
As it was, he could hardly refrain from reaching for the cute Doc and dropping a big one on that sexy little mouth of hers. Good thing he was still rational enough to know she might not appreciate any handling of the kind, at least, not until he got himself a new toothbrush and some mouthwash.
Cannon was nothing if not clean. Most chefs had a thing about neat, and he was no different. Still, the fact was he wanted to kiss her, and he planned on doing just that as soon as possible.
“When I wake up, Doc. I promise,” he muttered.
Then it was lights out.