by T. S. Joyce
“I wouldn’t have to claim her against her will. She was practically begging for it,” Lucan said, leering at her.
Morgan snatched the taser from Grey’s hand and hit the button as she connected with Lucan’s groin. His body went rigid and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
“Hurts like a mother fucker, doesn’t it?” She threw the tiny torture device angrily into the wall, and it exploded into dozens of pieces. The satisfaction of destroying it overrode her pain.
Grey said, “Morgan, if you want me to kill him, I will, but if you need to do it for closure, I understand. Tell me what you want.”
She glared at the man on the ground, debating. Even after everything she’d been through, after everything he’d done, she still couldn’t imagine taking a life. It wasn’t her. “No, I still don’t think I can do it. I’ve never killed a man before.”
Lucan had recovered enough to chuckle, and she looked from Grey to him.
“Can I make a request? I might not be able to do it, but it doesn’t mean I think this man deserves an honorable death,” she said.
“Wait,” Lucan said. “What?”
Grey’s fingers brushed hers as if he understood what she asked of him. “Do you need to watch?”
“No, I trust you to get the job done. I’ve seen enough.” She stumbled to door. “Good-bye, Lucan. The pleasure was all yours,” she murmured as she walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind her.
She sat at the bottom of the stairs and waited until the screaming stopped. Within minutes, the door opened and Grey tossed a bloodied rag he’d been wiping his hands on into the corner.
“It’s done,” Grey said coolly.
As they climbed the stairs, she glanced back at her prison that had come so close to breaking her. Her mate had killed an entire pack to get to her. Her mate.
He watched her with feral eyes, blood soaking his bandages and looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Demon Wolf. She liked that name. She slipped her hand into his and smiled painfully at him.
She had changed here. She could feel it down to her bones, she would come out of this different. Stronger. Harsher, and perhaps a little darker, but she was beginning to think that was necessary.
She was a werewolf, and she couldn’t hold onto her old life for a day longer.
The time to leave her hell had come.
Chapter Fifteen
As she exited the house she’d been trapped in, the sunlight hurt Morgan’s eyes, making them water with its intensity. Shadows stretched across the shallow porch of the run-down house and an old, splintered, wooden rocking chair swayed in the winter wind. “How long have I been down in that basement?”
“They took you two and a half days ago,” Grey answered. “I was unconscious the first day, but Wade and Marissa put me back together and I left for Montana within half an hour of waking up.”
His presence beside her filled her with a warmth she’d missed so much in the past weeks, and she shot him a sideways glance just to get one more greedy drink of him.
“How did you find me?” She shielded her eyes, still unable to look up at him without rapidly blinking as they walked to his truck parked sideways on the grassy lawn.
“The pack has been tracking you. When I got to Yellowstone County, you weren’t at Lucan’s house, so Jason tracked a cell number that had been calling one of their dead wolves. He and Dean figured out where you were by tracking the pack and pack family properties. This place was under one of the dead wolf’s names, and it was the closest property we could find to the cell phone signal.”
Silence followed, as if he didn’t know what to say next, and she got it. She didn’t know where they stood either. As much as she wanted to get lost in his embrace, she had spent months torturing them both, and it wouldn’t be that easy.
“Grey, listen—”
“Don’t,” he drawled. “I didn’t save you so that you would feel obligated to come back to me, and I sure as hell don’t need you letting me down easy. I would come for you every time, Morgan. Every time, but that doesn’t mean I’m confused about what we are. Me hanging on? That’s my choice. I respect the decisions you made. Please, just don’t explain what it’ll be like when we go back home and back to our separate lives. I know.”
It was then she realized just how much she’d hurt him. God, she could see it there, shimmering beneath his careful gaze. It wasn’t just him either. She’d burned them both with her decision to pull away. It wasn’t out of some sense of obligation that he’d risked his life to come for her today.
It was out of a sense of devotion.
This man didn’t have to tell her he loved her. He knew exactly how to show her, so that she could never question his feelings again.
He was half-dead, his body shredded, and still, he’d traveled all the way here and tracked her down, and killed her abusers. All of them.
He opened the tailgate and helped her onto it. The metal was cold against the backs of her legs, but discomfort meant she was still here, still alive. Wade’s truck sped down the road toward them, trailing a cloud of dust. When the Chevy skidded to a stop in front of Grey’s truck, Brent hopped out and ran straight for her, while Wade hauled an oversized medical kit from the back in a rush.
Grey sat on the tailgate beside her, and Morgan slipped her hand into his. He searched her face and offered her the barest smile. She didn’t know why, but that little smile made her want to happy-cry.
Wade looked from him to Morgan and back again, as if deciding who needed medical attention more. She must have looked like complete hell because he chose her.
He checked the gashes on her face but the bleeding had stopped. “Head wounds are always gory,” he explained. “Is there anything else? Are you hurt where I can’t see?”
She knew what he was asking and shook her head uncomfortably. “They didn’t claim me.”
He stared at her for a long moment before he nodded. “I’m going to go redo our boy’s stitches. He isn’t looking too good, and your injuries will hold until I can get him fixed up, okay?”
Brent brought over a bag of Rachel’s clothes. She thanked him and debated on going back inside to change in a bathroom. She didn’t want anyone else to see her without clothes on, but the thought of going back in the house with the dead bodies in the basement had her skirting around the corner to change. She pulled the shirt off and dropped it in the dirt beside her. She kicked it against the old siding for good measure. Tilting her face to the sky, she took a deep pull of fresh air.
“Wade will need to look at your ribs.”
She jumped at the sound. She hadn’t even heard Grey approach. She pulled the clean shirt up to cover herself. He stood leaning against the corner of the house, staring unashamedly at her. Nudity wasn’t a concern for werewolves who Changed together so much, but Grey hadn’t seen her naked body since the night they’d slept together, back when everything made sense.
“Let me help,” he said as he strode toward her.
She was so tired and so sick of fighting everything. She dropped her hands to her side, defeated, as he took the shirt from her. Tenderly, he pulled it over her head. All of her adrenaline had worn off, and by the time he was finished dressing her, she shook and swayed. Without saying a word, he picked her up and carried her to the truck bed. He set her gently on the edge of the tailgate again.
“I overheard you have a rib problem,” Wade said, motioning for her to lift up her shirt.
“I thought you were going to stitch Grey up first.”
Wade shrugged. “He won’t let me touch him until you’re taken care of. Stubborn ass. He should’ve been a donkey shifter.”
She snorted at the vision of Grey Changing into a donkey.
She pulled up her shirt enough to reveal dark red and purple bruising covering a large part of her rib cage on her right side from where Marshall had kicked her. Wade brushed gentle fingers along the discoloration, and when she gasp
ed, Grey ran a rough hand over his face and turned his back like her pain hurt him too.
“I think at least a couple of them are cracked but not all the way broken. Are you having difficulty breathing?”
“It hurts, but I can pull a breath.”
“Good. All I can do for those are wrap them and give you pain meds. I’m assuming you took care of the people who did this to her?” The last question had been directed at Grey.
“They’re all dead,” he confirmed.
Wade nodded once and pulled bandages and a small pair of scissors from the plastic bin. “You killed a whole pack.”
“Gotta earn his reputation,” Morgan teased.
“What reputation?” Grey asked with a frown.
“Apparently the other packs call you Demon Wolf.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a way better name than Donkey Shifter,” Brent said to himself.
When Morgan’s torso was wrapped, she tried to smile at Grey, but it was probably a grimace on account of her face hurting. She pointed to his bandaged chest and stomach. “Now we match.”
“Cute couple goals,” Brent deadpanned.
Morgan laughed, but it hurt her ribs, and she gasped at the sharp ache. And then, embarrassing her farther, her stomach growled.
“Do you guys have anything to eat in the truck?” Grey asked.
Wade was cleaning her face and neck with sterile rags soaked with bottled water when Brent brought over a box of cherry-fried pies and beef jerky.
“Sorry, Morg, its only convenience food. We were kind of in a rush to get here.”
She was already unwrapping a fried pie before he finished apologizing, mumbling her thanks between painful bites. Food was food.
“A couple of these cuts, like the one on your head and the one by your lip, are going to open back up as soon as I clean the dried blood out of them. They need stitches. The ones by your nose I can put tape on. How did he do this?”
She swallowed a mouthful of pie. “He punched me, and he had rings on. So tacky. He felt justified though, because I was being a smart ass.” She smiled and then cringed at the effect the pain had on her face. Good gravy, she could use an Advil or ten.
A growl ripped from Grey as he jumped down from his perch on the truck and headed for the house. “I’m gonna take a walk.”
“This is hard for him,” Wade said when Grey was out of earshot. “Seeing you like this, he’ll always blame himself.”
Wade gave her pain killers and they took effect as he finished up the last of the stitches by her mouth. He reset her broken nose as well, ensuring she would have two impressive black eyes by the morning. Ha, she felt so damn sexy right now.
Grey returned and took a seat up on the tailgate. His was a more tedious fix than Morgan’s. Mostly because he had ripped the stitches all the way down his stomach, but also because she hadn’t snarled at Wade constantly. Being a pack doctor seemed like it would be ridiculously hard. Poor Wade. He was always the good guy and the bad guy, all at once.
When Grey’s growling became constant and sweat beaded on his forehead, she scooted closer to him and rested her hand on his. The fire in his eyes diminished as she stroked his skin with her thumb in tiny circles.
When Wade was done, Grey turned to her and she was struck again with how handsome he looked. Even bloodied and tired, his body called to hers. His long hair fell forward into his eyes, and the sun was so bright behind him. His eyes were so light, and when he gave her a tired smile, she reveled in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Beard, muscles, raw dominance. That man was delicious.
Or so she thought, up until the moment when he parted his lips, and she was falling more in love with him, but he uttered, “I’m gonna go burn the bodies,” instead of something romantic.
Oh. Gag. “I’ll just wait in the truck.”
“Okay,” Grey murmured walking away. “Morgan?” he asked, turning back to her.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
A slow smile stretched her sore face. “I’m still here.”
A mixture of pride and hope filled his face and he nodded once. “Atta girl.”
Chapter Sixteen
She’d never been to Montana before, and though her memories would always be tainted by what those men had done to her, she couldn’t deny it was a beautiful landscape. When they pulled away from the burning house, and onto the main road, country eventually gave way to a tiny town with an auto salvage yard, bustling general store, and some restaurant called Frosty’s that boasted the best homemade root beer this side of the Mississippi River. A water main had busted on one of the main streets, and kids played in their swim suites right in the street as traffic picked its way by them. Mothers relaxed in bag chairs and waved as they passed by. Morgan probably looked like a murder victim, but she waved anyway, holding onto the idea that there were good people in the world to balance the bad.
Three hours outside of Lucan’s property, Wade pulled into a hotel parking lot and Grey parked beside him. She’d expected some seedy seventeen-dollars-a-night digs, but apparently the boys had other plans. The hotel was nice, with a welcoming fountain complete with dancing cherub statue. Grey and Wade checked them into rooms, while Brent talked on his phone in the other truck.
“The hotel is pretty busy inside,” Grey explained. “I don’t want anyone seeing you like this. We’re still too close to that explosion, and if they suspect foul play, police will be combing the area. No need for extra attention.”
His sunglasses were big on her face and rubbed painfully on her newly set nose, but they did the trick of covering most of the damage. Grey mussed her hair and pulled it forward for good measure and she followed the boys into the hotel lobby, careful to keep her eyes on the beige travertine tile that adorned the floor.
“We’re in a room down the hall,” Wade said as they parted ways.
“Wait, we’re not all staying in a room together?” Panic flared, filling her until it was hard to focus. She couldn’t stay in a room by herself. Distraction was the only thing keeping her from falling to sniveling pieces.
“I’m staying with you,” Grey said as the others disappeared into a doorway three rooms down.
Two parts relief, one part terror seized her.
Whatever he saw on her face seemed to make him fumble over his words. “Look, I’ll sleep on the sofa and you can have the bed. All right? I think it would be better if you weren’t alone tonight. I was going to ask you what you wanted to do, but I didn’t want you to shut me out. I mean—shit.” He shook his head and pursed his lips like they’d betrayed him.
She nodded slowly, testing how she felt about sharing the room with him. “I definitely want you sleeping with me tonight. Or…sleeping in my room. Our room.” Let’s bone. Don’t say that part out loud.
He stared at her for a loaded moment and then nodded. “Okay, whatever you need.”
Need. Yo. Dick. Okay her inner wolf was being a little much right now. Maybe she was in shock or something.
The keypad beeped and flashed green with the swipe of the room card and Grey shoved it open and waited for her to pass. This was usually the part where she dropped her bags and explored an unfamiliar hotel room, but all she wanted was to find the room service menu and order one of everything.
One looky look at the prices though had her thinking Taco Bell sounded better. Ten dollars for a baked potato? “This is really expensive,” she said. “We should go out and pick something up.”
“I’ll order for us.” He snatched the menu from her and plopped down on the couch, dialed for room service. “We need the tenderloin, lobster, asparagus is a must, three servings of garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed vegetables—”
“Lobster bisque!” she added. They’d almost died today. They could reward themselves with some freakin’ lobster bisque!
“What else?” he asked through a crooked grin. God she’d almost forgotten how fun he was.
“Double everything you said. I like my steak cooked
medium. Also, we need the peach cobbler and two orders of the cheese fries. And the nachos. Chicken wings.”
He repeated everything she said and the woman on the other line asked, “And how many is this for?”
“Just two,” Grey answered.
The woman on the other line laughed and said, “Okay, I’ll send up two sets of silverware.”
“And a glass of white wine and a beer. Anything you got.”
“And whiskey,” she called, pulling at the comforter on the bed to check the fancy thread count of the soft sheets.
“Do you have whiskey?” he asked.
“I can get you some from the bar downstairs,” came the reply on the other end of the line.
“The lady wants whiskey.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got it all. And I’m guessing this is for a special occasion?” the food service woman asked.
Grey’s smile for Morgan turned soft in a moment. “Just happy to be with my lady tonight. We don’t get a lot of nights out.”
Okay, look, she knew it was weird to get butterflies when her ribs were all broken and stuff, but whatever. She was seeing everything so clearly now. Sure, it had taken a near death experience for her to appreciate Grey the way he deserved, but better late than never.
In the bathroom, miniature shampoo, conditioner, and lotion bottles lined the sink. Shower caps and spa soaps, facial moisturizers, a brush and comb set, and a small stack of plastic-wrapped cups sat atop a flyer encouraging her to contact the office if she needed any other toiletries. The countertop was of shining black granite and a mountain of fluffy white towels lined the edge of a sprawling soaking tub.
She was stalling.
She’d looked everywhere but at the large decorative mirror above the sink. Don’t be a wuss.
Her face was unrecognizable, swollen and resembling a gargoyle statue she’d seen on a church once. Stitches, discoloring, the works. Holy armadillo, she looked like road kill. She couldn’t believe Grey was seeing her like this. She had never been filthier in all of her life. Sleep sounded like heaven and dew drops and unicorn feathers, but she would never be able to rest comfortably until she was clean.
