14. Morgan #2
I should be pissed off that he’s effectively ruined my life, but I’m just.
.. not. I’m not thrilled, far from it, and maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if I hadn’t spoken to Nico.
Hadn’t seen him thrashing about in absolute fucking terror from a nightmare brought on by being in one of those fight rings.
But I did.
I sat there and held his hand as he sobbed and told me a fraction of what it was like, because I’m pretty sure he didn’t tell me the worst parts.
How can I blame them, blame Lynx, for wanting to keep saving shifters like Nico? “It’s okay,” I murmur, and I mean it. “I’d want to save them too.”
His expression softens, blue eyes darkening to almost black as he watches me. My heart stutters, warmth spreading out in a gentle wave as a slow smile curves his lips. He’s so beautiful in that moment, I can’t look away.
It’s almost a surprise when he takes my hand and tugs me forward. I didn’t even see him move.
“Come on,” he says leading me towards the woods. “Let me show you.”
I follow him past a small clearing with a huge old tree in the middle. I open my mouth to ask about it, but he shakes his head. “Later.”
We take a few more steps into the trees before he stops and faces me. I glance around, forehead scrunching. At this point, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s not thinking about killing me anymore, but I’m confused as to what we’re doing here. “What am I looking at?”
“Me,” he whispers, then pulls his T-shirt over his head.
Oh.
Tattoos cover his skin—some dark, others bright flashes of colour—but before I get chance to study what they are, Lynx reaches for his belt and my breath catches. It’s like all other sound is sucked out of the air, the clank of his buckle seems so loud it’s all I can hear.
I don’t move a muscle as he undoes the button on his jeans and slides the zip down. Inch by inch, he reveals every part of him, and when he eases them down over muscled thighs dusted with dark hair, I almost swallow my tongue.
He’s not wearing underwear.
His jeans pool around his ankles and he kicks them off, along with his boots and socks.
His cock is right there, heavy and thick against his thigh, and my mouth waters. I have no idea why we couldn’t have done this back in my room, but I’m not about to complain.
“Don’t be scared,” he says softly.
“What?” I have about two seconds to wonder what the hell he means by that, then the air around him shimmers, a metallic tang coats the back of my tongue, and in the blink of an eye, I’m staring at a huge black wolf instead of Lynx.
“Fuck!” My heart leaps up into my throat and I stumble back against the nearest tree. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”
Wolf Lynx cocks his head and huffs.
Is he serious? “Surprisingly, this ”—I wave a hand at him— “wasn’t exactly my first thought when you started taking your clothes off.”
I swear Lynx rolls his eyes. His very blue, very beautiful eyes, but still a fucking wolf.
He takes a step towards me.
“Wait!” Even though rationally I know it’s Lynx in front of me, I’m not ready for him to come closer.
Flashbacks of that night threaten to force their way into my head, and I screw my eyes shut tight, concentrating on forcing them back.
“Just give me a minute. Please ,” I add, not wanting him to think I’m angry, because I’m not.
I get what a big deal this is.
For him.
For his club, his pack.
But it’s a big fucking deal for me too and I need a minute to calm down.
Or try.
My body seems to have a mind of its own right now. I breathe in and out, keeping my eyes shut, until I don’t think I’m in danger of hyperventilating.
When I open them again, Lynx is lying down, head resting on his front paws. He reminds me of the big black German Shepherd my old neighbours used to have. Not that I would ever say that aloud. It’s the ears, maybe.
But there’s no mistaking the eyes. They’re all Lynx, even if they are a little bluer than his human ones. And that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. Even if it is in my head.
Lynx watches me as I straighten and finally move away from the tree. I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. And it’s not like I can ask him. Is it?
“Can you understand me?”
Yep, definitely an eye roll this time. And a curl of his lip for good measure.
“I was just asking,” I grumble. “How am I supposed to know what you can and can’t do, since you neglected to mention you were going to turn into a fucking wolf .
” My voice catches at the end. The last time I saw wolves, they attacked me so badly I needed multiple stitches and a blood transfusion.
Is it really surprising that I’m a little nervous right now.
Wolf Lynx whines, his whole body vibrating like it physically hurts him to stay in place. I wonder again what he senses. “Can you tell how I’m feeling?” I ask him, not sure I want to know but thinking that I already do.
He nods once, and honestly, it’s so strange seeing a wild animal nod that I laugh. Even though the idea of Lynx knowing everything that I’m feeling is more than a little horrifying.
And embarrassing.
He sniffs and tilts his head, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“I’m not scared,” I whisper, and he snorts. “Nervous, yes. But the last wolves I met in a forest weren’t all that pleasant.”
His lips curl back in a snarl, revealing teeth that look sharp enough to cut through flesh.
I know they can.
But I’m still not scared, because Lynx’s anger isn’t directed at me. He crawls closer on his belly but stops a few feet away. He tilts his head again, and I realise it’s his way of asking a question.
I sink to the ground and hold out my hand. “I’m not scared,” I repeat.
It’s all the encouragement he needs to stand up and slowly walk towards me.
I meant what I said, I’m not scared, but he’s still a wolf and I hold my breath as he stops just shy of my hand, waiting for me to make the final move.
It’s only then I notice the faint silver stripes running through the fur on his chest. I don’t think, I reach out to trace them through the midnight black fur.
He shivers, eyes dropping closed as I stroke him.
This is so surreal, but a rightness I can’t begin to explain settles deep in my bones, and I smile. “You’re so beautiful.”
He huffs and steps closer until he can put his nose in the crook of my neck. I feel him inhale, his warm breath tickling my skin when he breathes out again.
I don’t know how long we stay like that: Me with my hands buried in his thick fur, Lynx with his head now resting on my shoulder. It’s the most relaxed and peaceful I’ve felt in days. Like we’re in our own little bubble and the world outside has ceased to exist.
I could stay here, I think to myself.
If only it was that simple.
Eventually Lynx sighs and walks back far enough that he can see my face. I think he’s about to shift back to human, but instead he makes this low bark-type sound and dances back a couple more paces.
“Really?” It’s pretty obvious what he wants, but I’m not sure I’m up for a walk through the forest. “I’ve been injured, you know.”
He grins—that’s the only way to describe it—then turns and races off into the trees.
Right, then.
I’m definitely not up for a run.
Before I’ve even stood up, he’s back, skidding to a halt so close to me, I almost fall over. And I swear he’s laughing at me. “Funny.” I scowl, but he’s off again before I can say anything else.
I guess he needed to burn some energy because Lynx spends the next half an hour racing through the trees as I walk along the path.
He’s so quick on his feet, most of the time he’s a blur through the trees.
As the light fades, I find it harder and harder to pick him out, until I lose track of him completely.
I turn around in a circle, straining to see in the low light, but he’s vanished.
“Morgan.”
I jump a mile in the air, my heart doing the same as I whirl around, clutching my chest. “ Wanker! ” I hiss. “You took years off my—” The rest of that sentence dies on my tongue as I turn and finally spot him.
Jesus Christ.
He’s about ten feet away, leaning against a tree in a small clearing.
Gloriously and unashamedly naked.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than Lynx Harper by moonlight.
“Come here,” he whispers and beckons me over with his finger.
I hesitate. Something about this feels oddly familiar, but it can’t.
I think I’d remember being in a forest with a naked MC president.
I walk towards him, slowly though, and he grins back at me.
When I’m close enough, he grabs my hand and tugs me the last few steps so that I fall against him.
I let out an oomph, inhaling sharply as he ducks his head to my throat and breathes deep.
There’s that feeling again.
The strongest sense of déjà vu.
“Fuck, you smell good,” Lynx growls, sending a shiver through me.
Man, that voice.
That voice.
I rear back, wide eyed. “It’s you .” I thought I’d imagined that night. I was so fucking hungover the following day but... “From the night of the fundraiser.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I’m starting to think maybe I’m wrong, but then he sighs. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
Once again, I’m lost for words.
Or maybe not, because some manage to force their way out.
“We kissed.” I shake my head as the memories do their best to swim to the surface.
“I came in my jeans, and it was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.
And then you left .” I take a step back and he reaches for me, but I sidestep his hand.
“All this time, you knew and you never said anything. Why ?”
“ Fuck .”
It’s so soft I almost miss it.
“It was obvious you either didn’t remember or didn’t know it was me that night. All things considered, I didn’t think it’d do either of us any good to tell you.”
I mean, he has a point, I guess.
As much as I hate to admit it.
But that doesn’t explain why he still hasn’t told me. Not now we’re... well, whatever the fuck we are. “And now?” I whisper.
“It’s . . . complicated.”
I snort, because, really ? But when he reaches for my hand this time, I grudgingly let him take it.
“I didn’t know who I was kissing that night behind the pub.” He tugs me close again, and I let him do that too. “Not how I’m starting to know you.”
I get it.
We were strangers.
But that still doesn’t explain why he bolted as soon as he got me off without so much as a goodbye. “Why did you leave like that?” I make sure to watch his face, to gauge his reaction. “I didn’t even get to return the favour.” Even four months later, it still stings.
“Morgan,” he whispers, one hand tightening around mine while the other cradles my jaw. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” He shakes his head. “I ran because I realised how fucking dangerous you were.”
“I’m not?—”
“To me you were. You are .”
“I don’t understand.”
He rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “You have the power to cause chaos, to bring me to my fucking knees.”
My heart pounds, my breaths coming faster and faster. “ Why ?”
“Because you’re my mate , Morgan. And that bond is stronger than the club, stronger than the pack.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek, and his expression turns fierce. “If we took that step, there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.”