Page 22 of No Strings Attached

Morgan squeezed his mate’s hand. “It doesn’t happen overnight.”

Sam was concentrating on their joined hands. “Was I lying down in the truck when you left the house?”

“Yes, but I couldn’t keep you concealed when I carried you into the clinic.”

“I’m putting you in danger just by being around you.” Sam glanced up at him. “That’s not fair to you.”

Taking a chance, Morgan kissed his mate’s forehead. “You let me worry about myself. I’ve been in worse situations.”

Like when Morgan had to escape the demon realm with three demons hot on his heels. Or the time a group of vampires decided to follow him because they wanted Morgan as their next meal. For over two and half centuries, Morgan had lived a very dangerous life and was still breathing. If Sam’s attacker wanted to come at him, Morgan would show the guy how hard it was to take down a seasoned polar bear.

One of the ways he used to make money was underground preternatural fighting. Morgan hadn’t gotten rich off it, but he’d made some serious cash with his winnings.

It wasn’t until he’d learned how to invest in the stock market that he’d become rich as fuck. And Morgan tucked his money away. His only big purchases had been his house and truck.

He was also going to pay off Sam’s medical debt. It wasn’t his mate’s fault, and Morgan wasn’t going to let Sam’s credit suffer. They were a team now. He just had to explain to the human about mates and the preternatural world.

And pray Sam didn’t rip out his stitches trying to run away screaming.

Chapter Eight

Sam cracked his eyes open and noticed the darkened room. He glanced at the clock and saw it was a little after three in the morning. Why was he awake? When they’d returned from the clinic, Morgan had made sure to put Sam back on his pill schedule. Right now Sam should be floating along in his dreams.

As carefully as he could, Sam sat up. His head spun, but after sitting there a minute or two, the dizziness subsided. He needed to use the bathroom.

Morgan had insisted on helping Sam with everything, but there was no way he was waking Morgan to help him in the bathroom.

Taking a few deep breaths, Sam gradually stood. When he felt stable enough, he shuffled out of his room and down the hall. The house was eerily quiet. Sam had gotten used to all the noise at Daryl’s but was relieved people weren’t coming and going at all hours and that no loud music was playing.

Before that, Sam had slept in his car, but he’d kept it close to the forest so no one would report him for being at the curb outside their house. The forest wasn’t as quiet at night as one might think. It wasn’t just owls or crickets, either.

Sam had heard howling and roars, as if a zoo occupied the forest. One night he could have sworn he heard a yowl, like something a cheetah or panther might make.

Thankfully the only thing he heard right now was the central air circulating. That was one thing the outdoors lacked, as had Daryl’s house. When the heatwave had hit, Sam hadn’t been able to sleep because he’d drowned in his own sweat.

After he used the bathroom, he headed for his room but stopped when he noticed that Morgan’s door was ajar. Sam shouldn’t be nosy, but he was still surprised how worried Morgan had been earlier.

He really was a standup guy.

Sam shuffled toward Morgan’s door, even though his brain was yelling at him to go back to his bedroom. For some unknown reason, Sam was overwhelmingly drawn to Morgan.

It was possible he was suffering from Florence Nightingale syndrome. After all, it was Morgan who’d found Sam and stayed with him in the hospital. And now the was taking care of Sam in his home.

But he knew it was more than that. Sam couldn’t explain why he felt it was more than just the guy taking care of him. He just felt it in his gut.

Sam tried to jerk out of sight when he saw that Morgan was still awake. He nearly fell on his ass but caught himself on the frame of the door.

“Did you need something?” Morgan’s voice still enthralled Sam. He liked how deep it was, reminding him of honey and whiskey.

“I was coming back from the bathroom.” Sam straightened and let the frame go. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Morgan opened his door all the way. “You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep. You can come in, if you want. I promise no funny stuff.”

Sam shuffled forward when Morgan turned and walked toward his bed. “You have a nice room.”’

“Thanks.” Morgan sat on his bed. “Since this is where I spend most of my time when I’m home, I wanted it as comfortable as possible.”

As much as Sam wanted to stand there and look around, his back was lightly throbbing. He didn’t see anywhere else to sit except on Morgan’s bed.

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