Page 203 of Bride of Choice

Like cold water had just been dumped over our heads, he jerked back and quickly set me down.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, holding my hands up when he would have rushed me to check me out. Licking my lips, a small, rueful grin tipped my stunned puss. “Sorry. My bad. I forgot your wet n wild side isn’t fond of sharing control.”

When he would have stepped closer, I laughed and waved him off.

“Jo- Jo hurt?” he grunted out, eyeing me worriedly.

Lifting my hand, I waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine! We got a lil carried away. It’s all good. From now on, we’re in slow mo mode. It’ll be like dating a snail until you get your bearings. No worries.” Scooping up a snowball, I held it up warningly. “Don’t make me make you leave,” I taunted.

Kooky grinned, though he looked unsure as to just how alright I really was. Adjusting the pack on his back, he still hesitated to leave.

“The sooner you leave, monster bait, the sooner you’ll be back here and I’ll have you all to myself,” I singsonged.

With that, and a promise from me to be on my best behavior, he left.

The second he was through the trees, no trace of white fur to be had, I spun around and threw my door open. I could feel the blood rolling down my arms. He’d gotten me pretty good. I was lucky he hadn’t caught the scent right away or he’d have stayed out of guilt. The hunt was his livelihood. It was who he was.

It was like my sewing and other various projects were for me. They gave me a sense of purpose.

Grabbing my bags to drag them inside, I almost came face to foam with a pool noodle tangle. “What the…”

My hut was jam packed with crap, stuffed to the brim. I couldn’t even set a foot inside, it was so tightly crammed in.

Rek.

This was the shit he’d gotten off my list. I noticed that fucking bicycle bell right off.

How had he- When did-

ARGH!

Didn’t fucking matter.

Resisting the urge to wince, I debated on whether or not going to Dorothy’s to get stitched up was the right move or not. I had a very horrible feeling I was going to need a stitch or two. Maybe eight. Every finger but his thumbs had pierced my skin, I knew that much.

Focusing on taking deep, even breaths, I forced myself to calm the fuck down and think.

Who else did I know that could stitch me up right, that wouldn’t somehow get it back to Kooky…

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you since…” Rosa’s voice trailed off as she got a good gander at the hot mess that is my cabin.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I blurted, dropping my hand as I sighed heavily.

Rosa’s eyes widened as her gaze dipped.

“What?” I muttered, closing my eyes, tilting my head towards the sky for a moment. Dating a furball was a freaking injury hazard, but not like I’d imagined. And getting clawed up or straight up bitten with nothing to temper it, was so not as fun as they made it sound in sexy monster romances. Definitely not afterward, the whole sore and healing puncture wounds shit. Ow.

Thank god for good timing and numbing salves.

“You’re- Joans, you’re bleeding!”

“Shh. Lower your voice, wouldja,” I muttered, giving her a look.

Rosa gave me a look right back.

Debating on how to handle this, she grabbed at my purse strap, leading me around by it as I grumbled and bitched behind her.

“Noyel won’t say anything,” she murmured, sparing me a short glance over her shoulder that seemed to confirm her suspicion that was exactly what I was hemming and hawing about.

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