Wild Card by Moira Rogers Page B

Her arguments were naïve and silly, and all they really boiled down to was that she didn’t want Jack in danger, no matter what that meant for her. “Just… sit down and let me look at it, all right?”
    The soft sound of Hazel’s footsteps drifted down the hallway, and Jack turned his head to follow the noise. “Check on Hazel first.”
    Ginny headed her off at the end of the hallway. “Everything’s fine. Jack’s a little scratched up, that’s all.”
    Hazel still looked flushed and nervous. “I don’t feel so good, Ginny. I feel -- not right.”
    “Hazel.” Jack’s low voice filled the room, vibrating with the power of an alpha. Hazel’s body went tense as he continued. “Can you get me a couple of towels from the bathroom while Ginny checks my arm?”
    The rush of magic wasn’t meant for Ginny, but she felt it brush past her as it found its target. Hazel’s face relaxed as the energy wrapped around her, an aura of pack and safety tinged with the protective strength that Jack lived and breathed. The girl’s eyes fluttered shut and she sighed as the tight tension bled away. “Okay, Jack.”
    Ginny watched her go and then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m -- I’m bad at dealing with things like this.”
    “Come here, Ginny.”
    She couldn’t let him comfort her while he was bleeding. “Jack.”
    “Ginny, please. Don’t make me come over there and drip blood on your floor.”
    She avoided his gaze, keeping hers on his feet as she made her way back to the table. “I don’t care about the floor.”
    His uninjured arm curled around her shoulders and tugged her against his chest. “I just need to know you’re okay,” he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.
    The rest of the world faded as she touched him. Her hands moved gingerly at first, and then clutched at his back. She breathed in his scent, nestled her face against his shoulder, and tried not to cry. “I’m okay, Jack. I’m not even hurt.”
    The faintest sound of shoes on the wood floor heralded Hazel’s arrival. “The towels are on the table,” she whispered. “Is it okay if I go get some air?”
    Jack answered before Ginny could. “Don’t go farther than the front porch before Lottie and Thomas get here, and if anyone else shows up, come back inside.”
    “Okay.”
    When she was gone Jack’s fingers tightened on Ginny’s lower back. “You’re not bad at dealing with things like this.” He laughed, the sound tired enough to make her chest ache. “I can barely manage Hazel on the best of days, and I doubt that’ll last much longer in any case.”
    “Special circumstances.” She pulled away and picked up a towel. “Will you sit down, already? Let me look at you.”
    He wrapped the second towel around his hips and sat without protest. “I promise I’m going to be okay.”
    Ginny bent to look, and only the fact that he’d already stopped bleeding kept her from dissolving into tears. “Think I need to stitch it up?” she whispered, prodding gently at the wound. “It looks deep.”
    Jack glanced at the wound and shook his head. “No, I heal fast. I just need a bath and some sleep, really. And some food.” He smiled at her. “And for Thomas to go get me some clothes, since I don’t think I’m squeezing my shoulders into anything you own.”
    She kissed him, hard and fast, because she had to, and rested her forehead against his. “Bath. Do you need help, or can I go talk to Hazel?”
    “I’ll be fine. Just… figure out how bad it is, would you? I know she’s on edge, but I can’t tell how close.”
    “I will.” She didn’t tell him about the scene during the standoff, just straightened and nodded down the hall. “You know where it is.” The need to help him nearly overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to walk toward the front door. “Yell if you need anything.”
    “Thanks, Ginny.”
    Ginny found Hazel shivering on the front porch even in the warm early-morning sun, her arms wrapped tight