“We’re leaving.” I shoot a death glare at Amora’s alphas. I’m done listening to this bullshit. Screw being nice. What would have happened if I didn’t get here on time?
“You didn’t have to be so rude,” Faye huffs as I carry her across the sand. “It wasn’t their fault that football players crashed the party.”
I grind my teeth together. If I argue with her, I’ll only say something I’ll regret.
“Pussycat?” Rook jogs to catch up to us. A grin widens his mouth when he sees Faye in my arms. Fuck, I’ll never hear the end of this. “You must be Faye, right? Damon and I work together. I’m Rook.”
“Hi,” Faye replies shyly. “Did you just call him pussycat?”
“No, he didn’t.” I roll my eyes while Rook cackles. Before he can do any more damage, I turn off my radio. “I’m clocking off. Tell the boss.”
“You got it, pussycat.” Rook winks. “See you around, Faye.”
I carry Faye until we reach my bike. After carefully setting her down, I hand her my spare helmet from under the seat.
“You want me to…” she gulps. “Ride this?”
“It’s the quickest way to get you to the clinic.” I put on my helmet. “Now hop on, and hold on tight.”
She looks around. “Can’t we take a golf cart?”
There aren’t any spares around. Even if there were, their maximum speed wouldn’t be quick enough. Plus, there’s no way I’m leaving my bike out here with drunk footballers on the loose.
“Helmet.” I motion to it. I don’t care whether she likes the method of transportation. All that matters is her seeing a doctor fast. “Now.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, she puts on the helmet then hops on after me. She’s so short that her feet hover mid-air.
“You’ll be fine. Just don’t let go,” I tell her, detecting her nerves. Being reassuring is more Ren’s thing, but she’s shaking like a leaf and I’m afraid she’ll fall off if she doesn’t calm down. “I’ve got you.”
Fuck. I vowed to keep my distance from her, so how am I going to get through the rest of the night when all I want to do is keep her close?
THIRTY-SIX
Faye
I clamp my thighs around Damon. I’m terrified, but his scent unfurls around me, providing me with a warmth that makes me feel safe. And when he says he’s got me, he says it with a conviction that makes me believe it.
As soon as I get used to the sensation of riding and realize I won’t get thrown off at every bend, I actually start enjoying it. Although I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. I’m still mad at him for how he spoke to Amora and her alphas. They weren’t to blame for the football players or my clumsiness.
It doesn’t take long to get to the clinic at the edge of campus. As soon as I hop off, he throws me over his shoulder and paces across the parking lot.
“I can walk!” He’s making a fuss over nothing. “You don’t have to carry me. It’s only a cut.”
“I’m not giving you another chance to injure yourself before you’re checked out.”
Luckily, the clinic is relatively quiet—so I don’t have to be humiliated by the whole campus seeing him carrying me—and we’re ushered forward to fill out check-in forms quickly.
“You can put your insurance details there,” the receptionist points at a box.
Health insurance? My heart sinks. “I-I…”
I’m rarely sick, and when I have been, Gram’s took me to the local doctor who accepted a lifetime supply of tea and lotion in exchange for medical care.
The receptionist’s kindness evaporates, her nose creasing in disapproval. “You do have health insurance, don’t you?”
“She’s covered by the Silverwood Pack policy,” Damon answers for me. “I’ll complete the forms.”
He snatches the clipboard from me then scribbles down some details before she points us toward a waiting room.
