Danae’s POV
Through the hair fallen across my face, I saw Caspian Jorah.
He stood about ten feet away in a navy henley, its fabric stretched across his shoulders, sleeves pushed up over strong forearms.
Casual clothes did nothing to diminish the authority coming off him.
My pulse gave an entirely different jump.
“You don’t settle private disputes here.”
His voice stayed low, yet carried.
For a moment, his blue eyes met mine, so intensely that I forgot to look away.
“All of you.
Leave.
Now.”
Galen changed almost instantly.
The wildness faded from his eyes.
He straightened and smoothed his shirt, though his hands shook visibly.
“Future Alpha.
I’m sorry for the disturbance.
My mate was unfaithful, and I lost control—”
“I’m not interested in excuses.
There are human witnesses here.
Control yourself, unless you’d prefer the Council to deal with this.”
The color drained from Galen’s face.
“Of course.
I’m leaving.”
He gave me one last look full of poison, then walked away with his shoulders rigid.
I stayed against the pillar.
My shoulder throbbed, my wrist aching with every beat of my pulse.
Eirwen crouched beside me while blood traced down from the scratches on her face.
“Thank you,” I said to Caspian.
Recognition flickered in his gaze. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Confusion, too, and something else that warmed my skin despite the pain.
That last part was the most disorienting.
My wrist still hurt where Galen had held it, yet the blue of Caspian’s eyes could make me conscious of an entirely different kind of touch.
“Can you get up?”
His tone was carefully neutral.
His attention stayed on me a little longer than it needed to.
I nodded and pushed against the concrete until I was standing.
I couldn’t quite hide the wince.
He looked at Eirwen’s face.
“Those scratches need proper cleaning.
Scratches from a werewolf can become infected in humans.”
“We’ll get to a hospital—”
“My car.”
He indicated a sleek black Maybach.
“I’ll take you somewhere they can treat both of you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
My heart was speeding up again.
Being close to him brought back too much, too readily.
“You’d rather sit in an emergency department for hours?
My clinic is ten minutes away.
Get in.”
Eirwen and I exchanged a glance.
Her small nod settled it.
At the Maybach, he opened the rear door and helped me inside.
His fingers brushed mine.
From the back seat, I watched the clean line of his profile and his hands around the steering wheel.
Memory supplied those same hands against my skin, his mouth at my neck.
I shifted, uncomfortable with the heat rising in me.
Being injured should have been enough for my body to think about.
Instead, every movement of his fingers on the wheel brought back the memory of them on my skin.
I couldn’t make those recollections less vivid simply because remembering them was inconvenient, or because the last conversation between us had ended so badly.
The clinic stood in an expensive part of town.
Inside, Caspian arranged for a nurse to take Eirwen away to have her face treated.
I started to follow, but his hand settled at my elbow.
“You need an examination, too.
That impact on your shoulder wasn’t minor.”
His voice was lower now.
The contact sent another unwelcome ripple through me.
He guided me to a private room, his palm light against my lower back.
With each step, I became more aware of his scent, his warmth, the narrow space between us.
The door clicked shut.
He turned and looked at my face, then slowly down my body.
I was fully dressed and felt absurdly exposed.
His nostrils flared slightly, as though he were testing the air.
Did he remember my scent?
What it had been like when we were together?
His mouth curved.
“Here we are again.”