Page 32 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Maid

The darker wolf hesitated a crucial second too long. My finger tightened on the trigger just as Dean's massive paw caught Rafe's underbelly, throwing him off. The bullet caught Rafe's shoulder instead of his heart. He howled in rage and pain.

Dean's jaws closed on his brother's throat, forcing him down. Blood matted both of their coats, turning the floor into a stickyred lake. But this time, Dean didn't let go until Rafe's struggles weakened into submission.

"Jenkins!" I shouted, praying Dean's AI could hear through my phone. "Call the police!"

"Already done, Ms. Sorenson." Jenkins's calm voice emerged from my pocket. "Local authorities are six minutes out."

When it was over, Dean stood over Sean's broken body, his silver fur stained crimson. His amber eyes found mine, glowing with otherworldly intensity. I felt his fear of how I'd react to his lethal violence.

I crossed the bloody floor without hesitation, burying my face in his thick scruff. His fur was impossibly soft despite the blood, his massive body trembling slightly as he curled protectively around me. Through the bond, I sent all my love, acceptance, and gratitude.

You saved me. You're not a monster. You're mine.

Rafe whimpered from his corner, still in wolf form but thoroughly subdued. Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. Dean's massive form shuddered against me, muscle and bone beginning their brutal reformation. His shoulders contracted under my hands, bones grinding as they shifted from wolf to man. I could feel every crack and pop beneath my palms as his body fought to reshape itself. The silver fur rippled like mercury before sinking back into human skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I held him tighter, trying to steady him through the change that I knew caused him such agony. I felt echoes of his pain pulse into my mind, but I refused to let go. I had to let him feel my strength, my acceptance. Let him know he never had to hide this part of himself from me.

A low groan escaped him. The sound was caught between a growl and a human cry. I pressed my forehead to his temple, my fingers threading through hair that moments ago had been fur.

"I'm here," I whispered. "I've got you."

"Nina." His voice was rough, pained. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

I silenced him with a kiss, tasting blood and wolf and man. "Never apologize for protecting me."

Blue and red lights flooded the cabin as police cars surrounded us. Dean pulled me closer, his body still thrumming with protective energy.

"Mr. Nightfang?" A woman's calm, authoritative voice called from the doorway. An elegant Asian woman in her forties stepped through the splintered door, medical bag in hand. Her sharp eyes took in the scene with clinical detachment. "Jenkins alerted me. Is everyone okay.?"

"Dr. Wu," Dean acknowledged, his posture relaxing slightly though he kept me tucked against him. "Nina's hurt."

"I can see that." Dr. Wu's expression sharpened as she took in my injuries. "Let's get her stabilized."

I tried to protest but swayed on my feet, the adrenaline crash hitting hard. Dean caught me, easing me down onto a relatively clean patch of floor.

"I need to examine her properly," Dr. Wu said firmly. "Dean, give us some space."

Dean growled low in his throat, his wolf still too close to the surface to accept separation.

"Your mate needs medical attention," Dr. Wu said, unprovoked by his display. "The sooner you let me work, the sooner I can ensure she's properly cared for."

Dean reluctantly stepped back, though he remained within arm's reach, his eyes never leaving me.

"The bullet wound first," Dr. Wu murmured, cutting away the fabric around my ribs. I hissed as she cleaned the graze. "Thankfully it's superficial, but it'll need stitches. The throat bruising concerns me more. Any difficulty breathing?"

"A little," I admitted, wincing as she probed the tender skin.

Dean's growl deepened. I felt his fury at my pain warring with his trust in Dr. Wu.

"I'll need to monitor you for potential swelling," she said, shining a light in my eyes. "The head wound isn't serious but you may have a concussion. And these rope burns will need treatment to prevent infection."

She worked efficiently, stitching the bullet graze and applying antiseptic to my various wounds. When she pressed on my ribs, I couldn't suppress a gasp of pain.

"Bruised, possibly cracked ribs," she diagnosed. "We'll need X-rays to be certain."

The sound that escaped Dean was barely human. Dr. Wu shot him a quelling look.

"She'll heal," she assured him. "But she needs rest and careful monitoring. I'm admitting her to my private clinic where I can keep an eye on her."

I started to object but Dean's hand found mine, squeezing gently.

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