Third POV limited
His fur retracted, disappearing back into his body as he shifted fully into his human form, left standing in tattered clothes. Forcing his eyelids open, Saint shifted backward instinctively, positioning himself against the tree as he forced his weak body upright, clinging to the bark in a stance that was both protective and defensive, one hand pressed over the wound where the bullet had torn through him, the other curled and ready to strike whatever had found him.
The moment his ears picked up the rustle of feet against leaves, he lashed out, his hand closing around empty air, before another hand wrapped around his throat, nearly knocking the last of his breath from his lungs. Saint coughed uncontrollably, clawing at the fingers around his neck, eyes glistening with tears, the burning ache in his upper arm nearly driving him past the edge of his own exhaustion.
"I smell blood." A rough, husky voice whispered near his ear, hot breath fanning against his neck as the grip eased and pulled back, hands raised.
"I’m not a hunter. I came out here for herbs, and I saw something running through the woods. Looks like you’ve got a cut on your arm."
Saint leaned against the nearest tree, trying to catch his breath, adrenaline surging through him as he staggered backward, nearly losing his footing in the mud before a tall, grey-haired man caught him before he hit the ground.
"I’m fine," Saint snarled, shoving the stranger’s hands off him.
"You don’t look fine, not with that much blood running down your shoulder like some wounded animal. You need help. My help."
"Leave," Saint breathed out, struggling to take even a single step.
"I really don’t have the money to buy another black suit for another funeral this month," the man joked, earning a death glare from Saint, who reluctantly let him take his arm for support, tucking a basket of herbs firmly over his own shoulder. "Theo Lang," he introduced himself as they started toward the penthouse.
Saint stayed quiet.
"You don’t introduce yourself to the person who just helped you?" Theo wondered aloud.
Saint answered shakily, coming to a stop in front of the first old house to catch his breath.
"Please don’t tell me you live out here," Theo begged, pulling a dry laugh out of Saint just as flashlight beams cut through the trees ahead of them, followed by a worn, rasping voice, then another deeper one.
"Saint!" they shouted, their lights sweeping wildly through the woods.
"I think they’ve come for you. I’ll head out before the storm gets worse." Theo announced quickly, wiping the rain from his face to see more clearly.
"The sky’s already tumbling harder. This storm isn’t going to let up, it’s already worse than it should be," Saint interjected as the rain thickened and lightning scattered across the sky.
Theo exhaled deeply, nodding, his hair soaked through.
"There he is!" a figure shouted, flashlight swinging over both Saint and Theo’s faces as heavy boots marched toward them.
"That’s my mansion up ahead. You can stay the night. The storm’s going to flood the roads, and you might lose your herbs otherwise, smells like you’ve got the makings of a wild mushroom stew in there."
The guards helped Saint into the mansion, Theo trailing behind them. The moment they passed through the gates, Dr. Quinn rushed toward Saint, hands already scanning over every inch of his body.
"Just a gun shot wound, but it missed anything vital." he said, pulling Saint toward the penthouse while Dax draped a blanket over his shoulders, the cold beginning to seep in.
"Take me to the other house," Saint requested, too ashamed to face her, but Dax and Dr. Quinn both refused immediately.
"Nothing’s taking you out that gate again, Saint. Tell Marchetti to get a hold of himself, or I’ll nail him to the wall myself." Dax threatened, eyes flicking toward Theo as he registered the unfamiliar face. "Brought a guest with you?"
Before Saint could answer, Aurora walked through the door, hair now neatly pulled back, dressed in a sweatshirt. His sweatshirt.
"Dr. Quinn told me to put it on," she said quickly, eyes widening at the sight of Theo standing beside Saint.
"Baby Smoky!" Theo called out, dropping his bag of herbs to the floor as Aurora leapt into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist before she quickly dropped back down under the weight of the stares fixed on her.
Aurora stared down from the window at the broken glass scattered across the cemented floor below, cold crawling over her skin, goosebumps rising along her shoulders. Saint hadn’t given her a sweatshirt out of kindness. Dr. Quinn noticed her discomfort and strode toward Saint’s wardrobe, pulling out a black hoodie.
"Here, take this. And tell the nanny to prepare some hot water so you can soak your feet." He advised, and Aurora nodded gratefully before leaving the room, pulling the sweatshirt over her shoulders as she went.
She dipped her face toward the warm bowl of water while soaking her feet in another, the warmth spreading through her, leaving her feeling lighter, calmer, though her mind kept drifting back to the figure who had burst through that shattered window, silently praying he’d walk back through it, or she’d have a lot of explaining to do for Alyssa.
Just then she heard Dax’s voice from the living room. Lifting her head from the bowl, she saw Saint being held up between Dax and another guard as they rushed him inside. She jumped up at the sight of the figure she instantly recognized. Theo Lang. Her cooking mentor. A male friend her father had once forbidden her from seeing. Pulling herself together under the weight of the stares around her, she quickly introduced Theo to everyone as they made their way into the house.
They settled into the living room while Dr. Quinn worked on Saint’s cut, Dax having already left after a call from Milo.
Aurora sat beside Theo, who was now dressed in dry clothes Saint had lent him from his own wardrobe. She and Theo talked about food and recipes, and whenever he asked what she was doing there, she brushed the question off, feigning ignorance, laughing easily at every joke he made.
Saint watched them from the edge of his vision, hands tightening around the blanket she’d draped over him earlier, after he’d lied through his teeth and claimed he needed another because the cold was still getting through.
"How’s Marchetti behaving in there?" Dr. Quinn asked, but Saint wasn’t listening.
"Aurora, get me a bottle of water," he ordered, the commanding edge in his voice surfacing again.
"It’s right there on the table, just reach for it," she replied, turning her attention back to Theo to continue their conversation.
"You’re my personal caretaker, not some audience paid to laugh at every unfunny joke," he groaned, the burning ache in his shoulder nearly knocking the breath out of him.
Aurora nodded slowly, head bowed, and stood to open the bottle and pour him a cup.
"Always laughing," Saint muttered under his breath.