Page 81 of Wolf's Gambit

“What?” I was choosing to ignore the fact I was soaking in his comfort, even though he was the reason I was in pain. “Shift?”

“You’re in pain. Why didn’t you shift to heal?”

Why didn’t I shift? Turning in his arms, I looked up at him in confusion. “Why did you shoot me?”

“Pup,” he scolded softly, the look in his eyes gentle. “Don’t change the subject.”

“You shot me with silver!”

“Why didn’t you shift?” he asked again. “Ask her the question, Kezia.”

“Her?” I heard Mal ask, and Royce shushed him.

Frowning, I searched his eyes but saw nothing hidden there, no answers either. “Cannon?”

“Ask her.” He rolled me gently onto my back so he was above me, but he was still holding me.

I turned to my wolf. She was waiting.

Why?

The burning binds us, we cannot shift form.

Shift now, I commanded. We need to heal.

In the wolf form, the urge to bite the alpha was stronger. We snapped our jaws at him, but he merely laughed as he stood. Shaking our head, we felt the power heal the last of the hurt, but we were still weak. We were tired. We relinquished control to the child.

Cannon handed me his shirt as I rose, waiting until I had covered my nakedness before stepping back. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Shaking my head to clear it, I spun and punched him. It didn’t matter that he barely moved. I got the hit in. “That was unnecessary,” I added with a glare.

Cannon rubbed his jaw, his eyebrow arched as if to say “really?” “Show me the scar.”

I held my arm out and felt like an experiment once more as the three males crowded me.

“Silver,” Royce murmured. I looked at him in question. “Your scar, it looks like silver.”

I strained to look, and sure enough, I saw the silvery-white wound against my pale skin. “Good job. I don’t tan,” I muttered in disgust. “I can’t believe you shot me.”

He ignored me. Lifting my hair, he showed Mal the other scar. The scar I never knew I had. “Kezia, hold your hair,” he ordered roughly.

“Why?”

With a huff of impatience, Cannon grabbed my hand and forced it into my hair. “Hold.”

I was too tired to argue. When I was holding my hair, I felt him tug at the shirt he had just given me. “I think she was shot here first. This was a few months ago,” he spoke quickly. Clinically. “Then this is tonight.” His fingers were softer as he skimmed the most recent scar. “Am I right?”

“Does it matter if you’re not?” I grumped tiredly. “You only listen to yourself anyway.”

“Not talking to you,” he chided, pulling me into his body. “Doc? What do you think?”

“Am I allowed to touch her?”

“You already touched me,” I told him irritably. “I already told His Dickishness I’m not contagious.”

“Quickly,” Cannon said tightly. His hold on me got tighter as Doc pressed and prodded my three scars. “Not there,” Cannon said sharply when Mal bent to look at my legs.

“Okay.”

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