Page 23 of Black Moon

Was she trying to pawn him off on me? No, he’d been leaving, so she didn’t need to get rid of him. More likely this was one of those political things I didn’t understand—and didn’t particularly want to.

In the end it didn’t much matter. He was injured, it was my fault, and I was the guy who was supposed to take care of injuries anyway. “Mind if I carry you?” I asked.

His eyes rounded a little, but he gave a little shake of his head, so I pulled him into my arms and headed for the clinic. It was just a few blocks, and he was no heavier than a barrel of apples. Quite a lot lighter, in fact.

He bit his lip and deliberately did not look at me, so I kept my mouth shut. It was probably uncomfortable, being a grown man and lugged around like a sack of apples. I’d have offered reassurances, but he didn’t seem to want to draw attention to it at all, so I kept my mouth shut.

When the tiniest hint of arousal mingled with his apple-cake scent, I almost dropped him.

I managed, by a hair, to keep my composure and keep walking.

Yes, he was gorgeous. Like Galatea herself—hand-carved perfection come to life.

But he was also a living, breathing, thinking werewolf who didn’t deserve to be put in a box like that. And frankly, between the pack leadership issues and Brook’s kidnapping, I didn’t have time to give Colt Doherty what he deserved. I couldn’t go courting an omega while Brook was living in gods-only-knew what kind of hell.

So I kept my eyes ahead, focused on the sidewalk, and the clinic, and taking care of the man I’d hurt, so I could finish this and get back to the things I needed to be working on.

Skye was still on the computer when we got there. He looked up at us, mouth agape, and snapped the laptop shut before I could even say anything. A second later, he was all professional medical assistant, tablet in his hands and waiting for orders.

In mostly silence, we took the X-ray and iced the ankle. Thankfully, the picture didn’t show any fractures, so we were in the clear.

Skye did an excellent job, as always, but he was practically buzzing with energy. I could see the questions compounding in his eyes. Who was the stranger? Where had he come from? Why was he here? Why did he smell like he was thinking about jumping on me?

Why did I smell like I might be considering letting it happen?

Dammit.

I stood three feet away as I gave him basic care instructions, trying to avoid exacerbating the issue. Yes, okay, trying to avoid touching him any more. I wanted nothing more than to cover the space in one step, wrap one hand around his waist, tip his head back with the other, and claim his lips with my own. Right there on bed number two, just—

Brook.

The pack.

I did not have time to lust after pretty omegas who were only in town to ask about our treatment for the Condition. I wouldn’t demand he stop and leave, because it was a good cause. Helping with the Condition was a noble calling.

Skye handed him a new ice pack, bandage, and the care paperwork we gave out to everyone. Since apparently I was already earning myself a place in hell by lusting after a beautiful man while a member of my pack was being held prisoner by unstable alphas, I might as well take it a step further.

“Skye, why don’t you show Mr. Doherty your website? He’s here to talk about what we’re doing to combat the Condition, and you’re the man who knows the most.” And with that, I left them alone and went to sterilize the equipment we had used.

Coward, my brain pointed out.

Yep, I agreed.

12

Colt

Okay, I did have anose.

I wasn’t trying to hide my interest in Doctor Sexy, with his cozy sweaters and big strong arms. Under other circumstances, I’d have gnawed a guy’s arm off before allowing him to carry me around like that.

But that’d be a shame, considering how nice Linden’s arms were, and how any weight on my ankle right then was a touch uncomfortable.

I might’ve been playing it up a little, trying to use the omega-in-peril thing to get the guy to give me a minute of his time. What alpha could resist?

Truthfully, it wasn’t working all that well. After a few minutes with my side cradled against his chest, I picked up the scent of his interest. It was sharp, but nice, kind of heady, like the first whiff you got when the wax started to melt on a brand-new scented candle.

And still, all through inspecting my leg, he avoided meeting my gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. He kept his distance, and I almost thought my nose was fooling me.

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