Page 33 of The Wolf Professor

“I—I don’t think I am, not badly at least. I’m probably still in shock.”

“I guess we both are,” He grunted. “What a pair.”

“I’m so sorry, Max,” she whispered.

“Don’t apologize. I’m just so fucking glad I got to you before they did.”

She stuck the plaster over the gash, “There, all done.”

“Feels better already.” He managed a feeble smile, then looked down at her hand, took it in his and gently toyed with it. Following his gaze, Charlie realized her knuckles were bruised. “Maybe I am hurt.”

“You whacked one of those bastards pretty hard.”

“Did I? I—I didn’t realize.”

"You pack quite a punch with these small hands. Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.”

“You could never do that Max.”

Gently, his fingers stroked over her knuckles.

Charlie let out a little gasp as sensation flooded her nether regions. Suddenly, he blinked, his eyes meeting hers almost blankly, as if he’d forgotten who he was for a moment.

“Sorry,” he muttered thickly. “I’ll get out of here. Run you a bath, so you can relax.” He dropped her hand and got groggily to his feet, wrapping the towel around his waist before she got more than a glimpse of his muscled thighs.

“No, Max, this is your room. Your bathroom,” she protested. “And you need to rest.”

“Well, tonight it’s yours. Go sit back on the bed while I clear up this infernal mess I’ve made, and then I’ll run a bath for you.”

She made to argue, but he gave her a look that silenced her. “Go and rest on the bed,” he ordered, in a growly tone that brooked no argument.

Reluctantly, Charlie got to her feet and toddled out on still-wobbly legs. She sank onto the bed and waited.

Soon Max emerged, carrying the bathroom trash can. “Fur,” he explained with a grimace. “No idea what to do with it. I’ll throw it in the bin outside, I guess.”

“It seems… such a waste,” Charlie said wistfully.

He gave her a quizzical smile. “Do you propose I make a blanket of it?” He pulled a face. “Somewhere in East Motham there’s a pile of shredded designer gear, not even useful for a homeless feral. The joys of shape-shifting, eh?”

Charlie gave a shaky laugh and watched the light from the lamp play on his torso as he put the trash can by the bedroom door, then walked back to her and sat on the end of the bed.

Her pulse sped up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“Sore now, actually.”

“Where?”

“My back, between my shoulder blades and my head. I think one of them really yanked my hair."

“May I check?” he asked softly.

She nodded and turned onto her tummy, feeling her heart pounding against the mattress. She felt the indent as he moved up the bed, and then the warmth of his hands as gently, so very gently, they explored her scalp. “You’ve lost a little patch here,” he said.

“Hmm, lucky there’s so much of it.” She gave a weak chuckle.

Now she felt his touch moving down the vertebrae in her neck, smoothing over her upper back, then feeling over the top of her dress to find the places where the ferals had punched and pushed her.

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