Page 102 of Healing Her Lions

“No.” He frowns but carries me into the shower.

I hiss as the water hits my legs. He reluctantly puts me on my feet, and I have to admit that I could get used to being carried everywhere. He doesn’t waste any time, cleaning me as fast as he can.

I concentrate on his strained face. He’s hiding his emotions as much as he can. I let him do everything without protest, realizing this is what he needs. He rinses me off, carries me back to the sink, and stands me before it. I avoid looking in the mirror because I know I can’t handle it. After drying my skin, he applies ointment to every scrape and puts a soft bandage on the nasty one below my eye.

He takes me into the bedroom and sets me on the bed. He disappears through a door and comes out with a shirt.

“Lift your arms,” he orders, and I comply. His shirt surrounds me, and I am comforted by it. He urges me to stand and pulls down the covers. “In.”

I carefully shuffle onto the mattress. He turns, and I grab his arm. “Stay,” I beg.

“I wouldn’t leave you. I need to wash my hair and change.” He looks down, and I notice his pants are soaked, and the scent of the fire still clings to him.

I was so distracted I didn’t know he wore them in the shower. I nod and let go. I huddle under the blankets and wait.

“Do you lose your clothes when you shift?” I ask when he comes back with sweats on.

“Yes.”

“I’m upset that I missed your shift. Your lion is massive.” I follow his progress as he moves to the other side of the bed.

“There will be many more opportunities to see it.”

“You had pants on in the barn.” He slides close, putting his arm above my head, and looks down at me.

“The vampires had extra clothes they carried.”

“Oh.” I twist my hands on my stomach.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

“You won’t leave when I do?”

“No. You are safe in our home. The guys will be back soon, and you will have three men who will never leave you alone again. Rest. Heal,” he says firmly.

“Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too,” he says. “I won’t let anyone harm you again.”

I nod and close my eyes.

Knowing my lion is watching over me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lucas

“That’s enough, brother,” Logan growls, wrapping his arms around my chest, pulling. I shake my head and allow him to move me back.

Trevor is hanging limply from the chains. My body is covered in his blood, and my fists are scraped raw but are healing quickly. I shake my arms, and blood flies around the room, and Bash curses.

“Such a waste,” he sneers. “Why is it always the coyotes?”

I roll my eyes his way. “He’s dead, so you can’t ask him.” Logan backs away as he realizes I am calm. My rage has quieted to a simmer. I am grateful I wasn’t the one who put our mate in danger; it would have been hard to get past that fact.

Ryker let us use his basement in the club. He even supplied us with the tools to teach Trevor a lesson, but I suppose he won’t need the knowledge now. Bash came to watch. Elijah lounged in a chair by the door, his cowboy hat pulled low, his hands folded on his stomach, and his legs stretched out, his cowboy boots clanking together.

“He lost the ability to talk at least thirty minutes ago,” Elijah says dryly. “Remind me never to start a fight with you.” He tips his hat in my direction.

---