9. Lynx #2
“Right. And when he offers to give me a lift back home, am I just free to go?” One eyebrow rises in challenge.
No.
That’s the first answer that fights to come out. I don’t want to let him out of my fucking sight, but at this point I’m not a hundred percent sure why.
Liar.
“Yes.” I grit out. “If that’s what you want.”
“Flint said the Feral Beasts might come back to finish the job.” He spits it at me, but there’s an edge to his voice. He’s scared.
He should be.
But that’s not my problem. It can’t be. I bury those feelings deep and shrug. “They might.”
“You utter fucking bastard. You really don’t give a shit, do you?” Underneath the contempt, there’s a trace of hurt, and it creeps under my armour striking deep. “Why go to the trouble of saving my life if you’re just gonna throw me to the wolves again?”
If you only knew how true that is.
He startles when he realises what he said, and I know instantly that Corey was right. Morgan Webb knows that shifters exist.
He fucking remembers.
He recovers quickly, chin tilting up. “Can I at least have some clothes if I’ve got to go meet Ash?” He gestures to the gown he’s wearing, and it hits me that he’s naked under there.
My claws lengthen even more.
I need to leave.
Facing Corey, I say, “Bring him down when he’s ready.” Then without so much as a glance at Morgan, I carefully pull my claws out and leave.
I still hear the grumbled, “What a fucking wanker,” as I walk down the hallway.
“I changed his dressings before he got dressed,” Corey says as we watch Morgan walk gingerly across the yard to greet his friend. “Taped them up and told him not to mess with them. Hopefully he won’t be tempted to take a look before we can get those stitches out.”
“How healed is he?” I watch Ash get out of the car and give Morgan a thorough once-over like he’s checking to make sure he’s in one piece.
“There’ll be scarring,” he says softly. “Even my blood isn’t that good.”
My wolf bristles, but I ignore it.
So does Corey, because I know he noticed. “But the wounds look about a week old, not a few days.” He glances at Morgan. “He’s probably good to go home, as long as we take the stitches out first.” With that, he leaves me and heads back upstairs.
Callum joins me on the steps outside the front of the house, where Flint and Jet already lean against the wall.
Ash eyes us warily as he waits for Morgan to reach him. As soon he gets close enough, Ash hisses, “What the fuck happened?” He reaches for Morgan, then drops his hands like he doesn’t know what to do.
Morgan winces. “Came off my bike.”
His wounds might have healed quicker than expected, but Morgan still walks with a kind of shuffle-limp. I don’t know if that’s the stitches pulling or if his wounds aren’t healed internally as much as we thought. Either way, it helps sell our lie.
Ash’s flat-out glaring at us now, even though I can smell the fear rolling off him.
“I like him,” Flint murmurs, but we all hear him. Callum gives him a withering look, but my gaze is fixed on Morgan.
On the way Ash finally pulls him into a careful hug. My lip curls until Callum elbows me.
“Are you hurt?” Ash whispers, letting Morgan go so he can see his face.
I wish I could see it, but I only get the back view as he shrugs a shoulder.
“Little bit.”
Jet snorts.
“Where?”
“Got some scrapes on the back of my legs and my stomach.” He shrugs once more, like it’s no big deal.
Ash glares at us again, like somehow we caused it, then steps in close. He drops his voice to a whisper, thinking it gives them privacy. “Did you really come off your bike? Or was it them?”
Callum tenses beside me.
Lie or truth? I wonder which way Morgan’ll go when he thinks we can’t hear.
“It wasn’t them,” he says after a beat.
Truth, then. Just not all of it.
But either Ash is not stupid or whatever’s on Morgan’s face right now answers the rest of his question. “Who, then?”
“Not here,” Morgan whispers.
“What the fuck is going on, Mor?”
Morgan shakes his head. “You need to leave and go home.”
“I’m taking you with me.”
“No.”
“No?” Ash grabs Morgan by the shoulders, and I really want to peel those fucking hands off him. I grunt in frustration when Morgan doesn’t even shake him off. “Why not?”
“Because I can’t come back with you.”
“Where else are you going to go?”
Morgan flinches and I growl, low and menacing, but thank fuck neither of them notices.
“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ash takes a step back but doesn’t let go. “You said your house is gone.”
“It is. Dad’s gone to his brother’s?—”
“Please tell me you’re not going to live with that piece of shit?”
Morgan shakes his head. “Fuck no. I just... I might take off for a bit when my bike’s fixed. Take some time to sort my head out.”
“What about work?”
“I’ll take holiday.”
Ash finally lets go of him, and some of the tension leaves my body. Now if only he’d give him some personal fucking space too. “You’ve not joined a biker gang then?”
Callum huffs out a laugh this time.
Biker gang.
Is that how they see us? I guess it’s not that far from the truth.
“No.” Morgan sighs, and it’s full of hurt and defeat and tugs at me in ways I don’t want. “Turns out I’m not good enough.”
Ash huffs. “Too fucking good, more like.” When he glances at us this time, he doesn’t even try to hide the contempt.
“He’s got balls,” Callum muses. “I’ll give him that.” There’s a hint of reluctant admiration to his tone.
“Are you really not coming home with me?” Ash asks.
“No. Not... not yet, at least. I just need some time to get my head straight after the house and everything.”
Ash bites his lip, frustration evident. Even from here I can tell how much he wants to grab Morgan and bundle him in the car. I almost feel sorry for him. The sigh he lets out sounds like resignation. “You better keep in touch.”
“Promise.”
“Every fucking day, I mean it.” He pulls Morgan into another hug, and I fight not to react this time. “And don’t stay away too long. You know I’m way too needy for that.”
Morgan laughs, but there’s an underlying sadness that I don’t think Ash’s picked up on because he just claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Morgan watches Ash get back in his car and drive back to the gates. When they close after him, he takes a shuddering breath that I can almost feel.
“Go check on the other two,” I tell Callum. “Then we need a meeting.” He disappears back inside, followed by Flint and Jet.
Morgan hasn’t moved. He doesn’t even turn around when I jump down the last few steps and walk over to him. I make enough noise that he has to have heard me.
It pisses me off, not gonna lie.
“Why didn’t you go back with him?”
“Because I don’t want to drag him into this.” Fucking finally, he has the manners to turn and face me. “If there’s a chance the Feral Beasts are gonna come after me again, I don’t want Ash or his family anywhere near me.”
Brave and loyal.
He’d make a good wolf.
But it’s never fucking happening.
“They might leave you alone,” I say instead. To be honest, I have no idea what those arseholes will do. If Corey’s theory is right and they attacked him because he smelt like me? Well, his little stay at this compound won’t have helped matters.
Not my problem, though.
Maybe if I say it enough times it’ll sink in.
“You really think they’ll let it go?” For once there’s no edge to his voice, no glare sent my way.
It forces honesty where I should probably have gone for the lie.
“No. I have no fucking clue what goes through their heads at the best of times. But as you’re already aware, they’re not nice.
” Understatement. “If they find out you’re alive and think there’s a chance you’ll go to the police.
..” I don’t need to finish that sentence.
“Right. Yeah.” He sighs again, looking so lost and alone, it’s an effort not to cave and reach for him like part of me— most of me — is so desperate to do. “I should just go away for a bit.”
“Probably.”
“I’ll just—” He stumbles as he turns, legs buckling. Instinct has me surging forward to catch him, arms wrapping tight around a surprisingly hard body.
His scent hits me a second later. Lingering traces of blood and pain, undercut with the subtle essence of grass and.
.. flowers. Fuck me, I refused to put a name to it before, but he smells like summer.
I can’t help it, I inhale long and deep.
My head dips until I’m so close to his skin I can feel the heat coming off it.
And I can still smell them .
As my nose skims the base of his throat, it’s so faint. I almost miss it for what it is, but I’m an alpha. My senses are heightened more than most and there’s no mistaking the taint of Feral Beast that clings to him.
They bit him.
Right here.
Right where my mouth hovers over skin that has now healed, but I remember the teeth marks that they left.
How fucking dare they.
My jaw tightens, fangs already breaking the skin as my body floods with the need to bite. The primal urge to replace their mark with one of my own. It’s so overwhelmingly powerful, my wolf dangerously close to the surface, I shouldn’t be surprised at the rumbling growl building in my chest.
Awareness grips me before I let loose the full roar I’d been building towards, but it’s too fucking late. Morgan stiffens in my arms, his body rigid where it’d been almost pliant before.
He felt it.
I know he did.
It might not make sense in his head, but the rest of him knows it’s not normal.
“You should get back upstairs.” I keep my voice soft so as not to spook him further. I wonder if he’ll let me get away with ignoring the huge fucking elephant in the room or call me on it.
It feels like hours pass, the silence thick and heavy around us, but I don’t let go and he doesn’t either. The solid weight of him pressed against me feels so fucking right in that moment I forget everything else.
Where we are.
Who’s watching.
Why it’s so dangerous to have him in my arms.