Page 65 of The Alpha's Gamble
Home. I was already there, of course. But the suite, with a soft bed and room service—werewolf healing took a fuck-ton of energy, and I’d just about reached my limit—and oh, gods. A shower. A hot shower.
So even though my legs protested against any movement at all, I didn’t resist as Declan led me back toward the road, one arm still holding me protectively right against him. I’d go wherever Declan took me, and if that was toward steak and lobster bisque, so much the better.
With every step, a little jolt went through my heart, surprise and joy and disbelief.
He’s mine. He wants me. I love him. He wants me!
“This isn’t just because I almost died, right?”
Declan hugged me closer, shuddering. “Don’t mention that ever again if you want me to stay sane,” he said. “And no. Remember? On the way to the party? I was trying to tell you. Now stop worrying and focus on not falling down, unless you want me to carry you.”
I very very much did not want Declan to carry me in front of all of his tough-guy security team, so I settled for elbowing him in the ribs and picking up the pace a little.
It wasn’t that difficult, actually, because recrossing the ground I’d run over, panicking and hurt and alone, only this time with Declan at my side, felt like victory. Saying I’d rescued myself might be an exaggeration; I’d have been dead if Declan had been only another few minutes behind us. But I’d tried. I’d done my best, and I’d bought the cavalry some time, and I’d caused some damage.
So I held my head up high as we climbed up the embankment onto the road. And I preened a little as someone—presumably Liam—looked up from where he was holding a bandage and kneeling over the prone form of the driver to say, “You really did a number on him,” in a tone of admiration.
Probably not the best attitude for a medic, but whatever. Worked for me.
Declan ushered me into one of the cars with heart-melting care, settling me as if I’d been a hundred years old and also made out of fine china. The quick kiss he dropped on my mouth as he ducked back out to consult with his men had my heart racing all over again.
My broken arm had finally mostly knitted together, the sharp pain subsiding to a dull ache, and the concussion seemed to be fading too. The tiny wounds from flying cactus spines had healed. Adrenaline comedown was a bitch and a half, but that’d fade eventually.
I leaned back in the comfortable seat, closed my eyes, and let everything go.
***
It took a little under two hours to get back to the Morrigan. I felt like it should’ve been several times that long, given how remote the location of my almost-murder had seemed from all the lights and bustle and noise of Vegas. Declan tugged me over to his side of the car and tucked me halfway into his lap, and I dozed there the whole way home, stumbling out in a daze when we finally stopped behind the casino near a discreet service door.
The same one Walter and I had used the night he attacked me the first time, in fact. I tried not to show it, but I shuddered a little. Declan pulled me closer and hustled me to the elevator, throwing a few words of instruction over his shoulder to the men who’d escorted us home.
I didn’t care about any of the details. My feet felt so heavy, ditto my head. Everything. Enough to outweigh how happy I was, even.
Happy. What a weird feeling. “I’m happy,” I mumbled, swaying into Declan’s grasp, knowing he’d hold me up.
He chuckled. “You’ll be happier in a second.”
The scents of salmon and steak and soup and chocolate and garlic potatoes hit me as we walked into the suite, and suddenly I cared about the details.
I careddeeply.
My stomach let out a fearsome growl worthy of an alpha werewolf at his angriest.
It took me about ten minutes to demolish literally everything edible in sight, including the array of desserts—every single one on the menu, I thought, and maybe a couple that weren’t on the menu at all.
I looked up from the ruins of the table to find Declan leaning one hip on the edge of it, smiling down at me. “You need me to order another round?”
Guilt hit me nearly as hard as my sudden, overwhelming contentment. Declan had made the effort to arrange a feast for me from the car, and I hadn’t even left him a bite.
“I’m sorry, some of that was for you, I didn’t—”
He pushed off, leaned down, and tugged me up out of my chair. “You really think I ordered two different kinds of cheesecake for myself? Blake, you’re healing. Come on. Shower.”
“Shower” turned out to mean “shower with Declan.” He followed me into his bathroom, and the moment he had the water running, he started to undress me with a concentrated focus I didn’t think had much to do with wanting to fuck me, given the way he checked every inch of me for lingering injuries.
My jacket hit the floor first, and then the bowtie. I stood mute and still, soaking in the gathering warmth of the billowing steam, Declan’s hands working on me. Petting my shoulders, stroking down my arms and examining the fading bruises left behind by the break, and muttering something about ripping Walter’s guts out and strangling him with them.
I smiled to myself.
