24. Morgan #3
I grit my teeth, searching for the control I know I’m supposed to have, but it’s hard when he throws it in my face like that. “It’s not his fault.”
“I’m not saying it is.” He sits forward, arms on the table. “But it’s not yours either, and if you don’t sort that shit out, it’s gonna drive you insane.”
“Fuck’s sake, Jet,” Callum snaps, but I shake my head because he’s not wrong.
“I hate it,” I say softly. It feels wrong to admit it aloud, but the people around this table are family, and I need to be honest with them.
“Every part of me knows that he’s mine, but when I get near him.
.. he smells like someone else’s, and I want—” I grip the table, swallowing down the urge to shift, because that won’t help anybody, least of all me.
“He’s already been bitten once, against his will.
I fucking refuse to even suggest that he needs to go through that again. ”
“But if you told him what it’s doing to you, how bad?—”
“No. End of discussion.” I meet the gaze of every fucker around this table. “I’m not going to guilt-trip him into taking my bite. I’d rather fucking die.”
I’ve made this walk up the stairs to the hospital rooms more times than I’ve ever wanted to these past couple of weeks. But the Morgan waiting for me this time is a far cry from the one I first saw here.
He smiles when he sees me, wide and welcoming, and my stomach clenches with raw need. I want him so fucking badly, but I stop and lean against the doorjamb instead of walking right up to his bed and pulling him into my arms like I want to.
Firstly, I need a moment to acclimatise to the smell of another pack on him, of Birch . Showing any signs that it affects me more than I’ve let on isn’t something I’m willing to risk. I inhale, slow and steady, hands clenched as his scent reaches me.
It’s wrong.
Fundamentally wrong on a base level.
I can’t describe the way my insides twist, the way my wolf rebels at knowing that Morgan is mine but smelling evidence to the contrary.
I’m also not prepared for the way his smile falters and his eyes narrow as he copies me and takes a deep breath in. “Why do you smell like that?”
My eyebrows shoot up in shock. “Like what?” He’s been a shifter for less than two days, with no support. I expected him to be as clueless as Nico where shifter senses are concerned.
He rakes a gaze over me that makes me want to take a step back.
Far too fucking knowing.
Then he tilts his head, and it’d be adorable if I wasn’t on the verge of panic.
“You smell... like fear. And anger. And pain.” He waves a hand about.
“It’s all mixed up and I’m new at this.” He reaches up and pulls at the collar of the T-shirt he’s wearing, exposing the scars left from Birch’s bite.
I don’t react quick enough to stop everything he just described from spiralling out of control for the one, two, three seconds it takes for me to snap a lid on it all.
His eyes are like saucers, his mouth open as I watch everything click into place.
“You lied.” Instead of being angry, he grins wider than before and I... I don’t know what to do with that at all .
“And that makes you happy?” I manage.
“Are you fucking kidding?” He jumps out of bed, and before I get the chance to tell him to take it easy—he’s still recovering from the effects of aconite poisoning—he jumps at me and gives me no choice but to catch him.
This close, it’s practically shoved in my face, and I growl, fingers clenching his thighs so tightly it has to hurt. “ Morgan .”
“ No .” He leans back enough to meet my eyes, with a fierce gaze of his own. “I thought it fucking bothered you as much as it does me.” Again, his eyes narrow accusingly. “You even said this hurt to look at.”
He pulls at his T-shirt again but I don’t look down. Can’t with my mouth this close to his throat.
“But then you rode all the way back here with me plastered to you and got off at the other end without so much as a twitch. Like it was nothing . You handed me off to Corey and then left, when I was so fucking desperate for you to stay,” he snarls, eyes flashing, scent a mix of fury and hurt, and I half expect him to shift any second.
Then his whole body deflates, taking his anger with it.
“I hate that he bit me. I hate that it’s their scent I carry and not the same one as everyone here I’m growing to trust.” His voice softens to barely a whisper.
“But most of all? I hate that it’s his mark scarring my skin and not yours. ”
I am floored.
Fucking speechless.
He huffs and tries to get down, but fuck no, there’s zero chance of me letting go of him. Tightening my grip, I spin us round and press him against the nearest wall.
His breath hitches, thighs clenching around my waist, and another growl escapes me as a familiar scent fills the air between us.
“You think I don’t care? That this is nothing?
” I open my mouth and let him see the fangs I can’t hold back any longer.
Dig my claws through the thin material of his sweats so he can feel how on edge I am right now.
“You were hurt. Fox sliced you open with a silver-edged, aconite-laced blade so that your body couldn’t heal properly.
He electrocuted you.” I close my eyes, but it doesn’t fucking help.
“I didn’t want to add to your trauma by acting like the possessive arsehole I am when it comes to you.
So I let Corey take you so he could heal you.
So you could have some fucking peace after what you’ve been through. ”
When I open my eyes, he’s still staring at me, but some of the rage has dissipated.
It lingers in his scent though, as does the hurt and desperation, and it cuts me deeper than I’m prepared for.
“I hate that he bit you, that you don’t smell like my pack.
” I fight for some semblance of control that’ll allow me to do what I want to do now.
“But the thing that makes me want to tear him apart limb by limb?” I’m shaking as I dip my head and scrape wolf-sharpened teeth over the base of his throat.
“That he left his fucking mark in the place where our mating bite should be.”
His inhale is as shaky as mine, and I almost miss what he says next. “Make me yours.”
It takes a second for his words to register. Another for me to want it with all my heart, and another to force out the words of my own. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” He can’t. I never told him what it would mean as a human, let alone as a shifter.
Gentle hands cup my jaw and tilt my chin up until I’m looking into eyes that are clear of the anger and hurt from moments earlier.
“I know that we’ll be connected at a base, primal level.
In such a way that we’ll be able to feel each other’s emotions.
And over time, I’ll know when you’re close and when you’re not.
” His expression softens further, a small smile following.
“And once we forge that bond, it’s forever. No take backs.”
Okay, maybe he does know what he’s asking. “How?”
He shrugs. “Me and Luke had a few hours to kill in that cage.”
The reminder draws a snarl out of me.
“Hey. It’s over,” he murmurs. “Done.” He lets go of me long enough to grab the hem of his T-shirt and pull it over his head.
My gaze snags on the fading scars on his chest left by Fox’s blade, but Morgan tsks softly, hands finding my face again. “You saved me, twice now,” he says, gently pushing my head down until my mouth’s dangerously close to those fucking bite marks. “Now I need you to save me one more time.”
Fuck, I want to.
I want to sink my teeth into him and claim what’s been calling to me for months . But it’s only been a couple of weeks, days for Morgan. “I can’t.” I shake my head, somehow finding the strength to pull away from him and lift my head.
He sighs, like he’s disappointed but not surprised.
I don’t put him down, though, and he doesn’t ask me to.
“You’re right, I can’t say that I’d have wanted this if I’d stayed human.
” He puts a finger over my mouth to stop me interrupting.
“But none of that matters now, because I’m not one anymore.
I’m a shifter, and that’s never going to change.
So human Morgan doesn’t get a say in what happens between us now.
” He strokes along my lower lip, reaching up to trace the edges of fangs that have yet to recede.
“As a shifter , I want you with every fucking bone in my stronger, healthier, faster body. I know you’re mine.
I feel it here.” He presses both hands against his heart.
“Did I ask for any of this? Fuck no.” He shakes his head and then smiles.
“But this is my life now. A life I thought was going to be cut off at the fucking knees in that fight ring, until you came for me when I needed you most. I’m not going to waste another second thinking about how fast we’re moving, how much we still need to learn about each other, not when I almost lost everything.
“I won’t pretend to know how bonds work, or why they happen, but I know what I feel, what I want.
I have this hollow, bruised ache behind my ribcage, and it hurts, Lynx.
It hurts to feel so wrong with his mark on me, when I know deep in my fucking soul that I belong to you, and you—” He grabs the back of my neck, and now I feel the telltale scrape of claws.
I grin as he bares his nowhere-near-human teeth at me. “You’re mine.”
I can’t fight it any longer.
Don’t even try.
He makes a fucking good argument and I’m not about to tell him he doesn’t know his own mind. Not when I feel every single thing he’s just described.
“Okay.” I pull him into a kiss that’s thankfully free of fangs.