Max held her, murmuring meaningless words that meant the world to her all the same. She squeezed him back until she was finally able to believe he was alive and going to make it; then she lifted her head and shouted for Dr. Saunders, telling him the antidote had worked.
Turning back to Max, she leaned down to kiss him long and slow on the mouth. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again, understand?”
Max smiled up at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered softly, tugging her down for another kiss.
Chapter 16
“Let me know what you think of this,” Brooks said with a grin as he slid two plates in front of Lana. “Max asked me to come up with something special for you since I had grill duty today.”
She looked up and was momentarily distracted by the sight of Brooks standing there in a pair of shorts and a muscle shirt. And man, was there a lot of muscle there to fill out that shirt. She loved Max with every fiber of her being, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a fine-looking man when she saw him.
She forced her attention away from Brooks—who insisted he was dressed like he was on the chilly November day purely because it was so hot over by the grills—and leaned over to smell the food. She let out a little moan of appreciation. “This smells amazing. What is it?”
“Two grilled portobello mushroom burgers with Cajun spices and a little onion jam on the side, along with grilled sweet potato wedges spiced up with lime and cilantro.”
Lana glanced at Max, who shrugged and shook his head. “What can I say? The big man has some mad skills with the grills.”
Lana laughed and picked up the mushroom burger, taking a bite. “It’s awesome!” she said around a big mouthful of tasty goodness. She knew talking with her mouth full was poor manners, but it was so good.
Brooks grinned again. “Glad you like it. You need anything else, let me know.”
Giving them a nod, he headed back to his grills over by the volleyball court, where he’d spent the better part of the afternoon working hard to feed all the people attending the monthly SWAT cookout. Team mascot, Tuffie, and Lacey’s dog, Leo, sat beside him, patiently waiting for their specially made plates of food.
“That does smell damn good,” Remy said from the other side of the table, where he sat with Triana. “Can I have a piece?”
Lana cut off a piece from the back side of the burger and passed it over to him. Remy took a bite with as much gusto as she had.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” Diego murmured from the other side of Max as he dug into his bloody rare steak. “A Cajun werewolf eating mushrooms instead of meat. Your family would probably disown you if they found out.”
Remy chuckled and licked his fingers clean. “My family would eat cardboard if you put Cajun spices on it.”
Lana laughed along with everyone else at the table. “I’m glad so many people were able to come today.”
Max looked up from his barbecue chicken and around at the compound. “Yeah. We’ve never had this many people here before. Though I have to tell you, these events are usually a lot louder than this.”
“I can’t say I blame anyone for not being in a partying mood,” Remy said, the jovial expression gone from his face. “The wounds are still a bit raw for everyone.”
Lana couldn’t argue with that. This was her first cookout, but even she’d noticed the event seemed a bit subdued. That was understandable. Although the Pack had been lucky to make it out of the recent encounter with the hunters in one piece, it was too soon to be laughing and joking.
Thankfully, Gage, Diego, and Hale had completely recovered from the wounds they’d sustained during the fight with Boyd and the other hunters. In fact, unless someone had told her, she’d have been hard-pressed to know how close they’d come to dying that day. Dr. Saunders had tried to give her and the others much of the credit for the antidote, but Lana knew whom to thank for saving Max’s life.
Since he’d been shot three times in the chest, Max’s recovery had taken longer than the others. Two weeks later, he was still moving a little slower than normal. Last week he’d gone up to Alaska with her for Denise’s funeral, and that had nearly worn him out, but he was getting stronger every day, and Lana had no doubt that he’d be back to his old self soon.
On the bright side, Max no longer seemed to have any issue controlling his inner werewolf. Maybe it was an outcome of saving Terence and his family, or maybe it had come from saving Lana. Either way, his fangs and claws hadn’t made a surprise appearance since that night.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a bright side when it came to Zane, which was probably the biggest reason there was a dark shadow hanging over this entire event. Yes, they’d all lived through the hunter’s attack, but one of their kind had paid a steep price.
Zane was supposed to be at home on bed rest for at least another week, but he’d insisted on coming to the cookout. He’d never missed one before, and he said he didn’t intend to start now, arm in a sling or not. While the antidote had cleared the poison from his body, the stuff had still been in his system for nearly two days, doing an unimaginable amount of damage. Something as simple as getting out of bed was a chore for him at the moment, but yet here he was.
It was the injury to his arm that had everyone worried, though. The antidote couldn’t replace muscle that was no longer there, and even though Dr. Saunders was hopeful the werewolf gene might allow some muscle regrowth to occur, the fact was no one knew if it would.
Zane wasn’t handling the possibility of being disabled very well. And Trey—who essentially believed he was responsible—was handling it even worse. The medic hadn’t left Zane’s side all day unless it was to grab more food for his pack mate.
Not everyone at the cookout was feeling down, though. At the far picnic table, Coletti was sitting with Kari, their heads close together, grins on their faces. Max had told Lana about what had happened between Coletti and the beta werewolf at the compound right before the SWAT team had left to raid the clinic. No one seemed to know what Kari had said to the man, but afterward, the detective hadn’t asked Max for any of those details he’d been demanding earlier.
Brandy was there, too. She’d finally accepted an invitation from Chris, and now they were sitting on a bench on the other side of the volleyball court, talking. Lana could have eavesdropped but refused, especially since they were obviously having a good time together.
