Page 84 of Werewolves Don't Howl
He stared at me, not looking anything close to less beautiful. “You can bring warmth to the House of Mercy?” He said it like it was a foreign tongue that he didn’t know. The likelihood of him not knowing every imaginable language was very small.
“Mm. I don’t think I can work for Zephin Clay anymore. Besides which, being with you has made it difficult to work as an anonymous society reporter. Maybe I’ll be the House of Mercy’s housekeeper instead.” I closed my eyes and pulled him close so I could snuggle him. “You’re so delighted that you bound me to your secret society so I can adorableize it.”
He hesitated and then carefully wrapped me in his arms and nuzzled my hair. “I am so delighted. Most of my members will stab you if you try to hug them.”
“Only most? Challenge accepted.”
He sighed and settled down around me, relaxing into the mattress. “You should shift into a wolf so you can heal more quickly.”
“Sh. Maybe I like recovering exactly like this.”
I did. So much, but I shouldn’t say that when it made the bindings in my skin thrum and tighten. I shifted into my wolf and he immediately scooped me even closer, climbing under the covers with me. Fur was much less shocking than naked gnome-elf to my beautiful appropriate love.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Iwoke up stiff, sore, and miserable. I was also exhausted, starving, and irritable. Cross was my complete opposite, beaming down at me while he held a tray burdened with cinnamon rolls, hearty liver stew, and lightly steamed vegetables.
I took one look at that tray and my heart sank. “My mom’s here?”
He settled the tray on my lap and carefully rolled the top of the blankets and sheet. I was wearing his shirt. Did I want to ask him how I’d gotten into his shirt? No. Definitely not.
His smile was still bright and irritatingly beautiful. “You’ve been sleeping for days. You must have a voracious appetite.”
I scowled harder at him. “Days? You drugged me! Admit it!”
He smiled so sweetly as he brushed my nested hair away from my face and then held out a spoonful of liver stew for me. “You’re so intelligent, understanding exactly the lengths I’ll go to in order to keep my heart’s light healthy.”
“Hmph.” I took the bite and almost bit his hand, but that stew was absolutely everything my beast needed. I stole the spoon and proceeded to shovel it into my mouth. Mm. Liver. Also other tender organ meat. My mother was amazing. When I’d cleaned out the bowl, I moved onto the vegetables, until I got to the cinnamon rolls. I sighed almost happily as I bit into that first soft, sweet, delicious bread. Perfection. The swirls of cream on top, the perfect chewiness of the dough’s exterior, and that cinnamon spice that makes everything nice.
Once I’d finished eating, I looked up to see Cross staring at me with a soft smile on his otherwise chiseled face. I pointed at him, remembering what we’d been talking about. “You can’t drug me any time you like.”
“It was your mother’s idea.”
I shook my head. “Don’t try to blame her for your high-handed drugging. What did I miss?” I put the tray on the side table and threw back the blankets. My thigh still had a rather impressive gash across it. I didn’t remember getting that.
He tsked. “And this is why I have to knock you unconscious, because you can’t stay in bed and rest like a proper housekeeper.”
“Why aren’t I completely healed?” I asked, frowning up at him. “I can heal from shattered bones in a day. Was there some kind of weird poison?”
“It’s the binding.”
“But the binding is supposed to give me strength.”
“Yes, but forming the binding takes a great deal of magic. It probably would have killed you if you weren’t enhanced by the serum Forsythia so recklessly bestowed upon you.” His lips tightened for a moment before he resumed his happy smile. “How did you defeat the beast? Forsythia said that you crushed her with an oak tree?”
Ah. His smile was a lie. That made more sense than him actually being so happy after my family crashed his mansion.
“You questioned Forsythia? I hope you were gentle.”
“I didn’t kill her,” he said all creepy-sweet. “That’s more than she deserves after what she did to you and your other friend. Please, expound about the oak tree crushing.”
I studied him and then put a bright smile on my face. Two could play that game. “Oh, you know, I was bleeding out, so I used my blood to grow this adorable little sapling that turned into a sixty-foot monster. Loren was so big, I didn’t think she would fit inside the tree, but I made it work.”
“Mm. That explains why the tree is animate. His name is Fergy, and he’s been stealing people’s phones and snacks, particularly beef jerky. He is good friends with the great ape that lives in the enclosure, at least according to him, but the animal is frankly terrified of Fergy for some reason, perhaps the dark magic.”
“You’ve talked to my tree?” I asked, impressed.
“Your father. He’s the flora empath, like my mother. He could sing a tree to health and vitality. You can sing a tree into a werewolf-eating monster. He’s very proud.”
