Karl grinned at him, lopsided and happy, and Leon had to look away before he did something dangerous again.
“I’m honored. Truly.”
Leon rolled his eyes. Damn wolf. “Just don’t lose it.”
Karl’s grin widened briefly, as if he were considering doing just that, but then he turned more serious. “Ruth hasn’t come back.”
Leon’s smile faded too. “I noticed. Seemed in a hell of a hurry, too, and it all changed after that ridiculous wolf pup. You think she’s gone to tell Michael what really happened?”
“Maybe,” Karl said. “Not that it changes anything.”
“Maybe it will. Maybe they’ll realize you’re a hero and award you the freedom of the pack or something. Even just the freedom to leave would be nice.”
But he didn’t believe it, and neither, he saw, did Karl. Knowing that Karl had saved Charlie might make Michael less eager to dispose of them, but it didn’t change the fundamental calculation—he believed, for some incomprehensible reason, that allowing them to leave would threaten his pack. And an alpha’s one, sacred trust was to protect their pack.
Reminded of the stakes, they were silent a while. Karl dug into his bowl of slop, determined and grim like it could heal him on its own.
Leon watched him, the blanket draped haphazardly around his waist, the flex of muscles in his arm, the breadth of his shoulders.
“I can’t wait to undress you properly,” he said without thinking.
Karl choked on a mouthful of oatmeal.
Leon smiled serenely and leaned back on his hands. “Just saying. Get well soon.”
KARL
Karl was just swallowing the last mouthful of what Ruth considered food when Leon hit him withthatline.
He choked. Not on the food, but on the mental image—full technicolor, vivid, inescapable—of Leon, undressing him with deliberate, teasing slowness. Which was deeply unhelpful when he was supposed to be focusing on healing.Notimagining himself tangled up with Leon, naked.
Leon, of course, looked delighted at his reaction. He was the picture of smug satisfaction as he leaned back on his hands, all innocence and feline grace.
Karl held out the empty bowl with what he hoped was a withering look. Judging by the smirk it earned, it probably came off more dazed than intimidating.
“You done?” Leon asked, as he took the bowl.
“With the food,” Karl muttered.
He was also done with lying here, even if part of him wanted to stay exactly where he was—close to Leon, warm, and vaguely dreaming of a future that might include comb sharing and innuendo over breakfast. But the rest of him knew how much danger they were still in, with no way of knowing when Michael would make his move.
Which meant Karl needed to know what his body could do. Right now.
“Help me up.”
Leon was instantly serious again as he put the bowl on the table. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“No,” Karl admitted. “But I need to.”
Leon came back to his side as he shoved back the covers and swung his legs off the bed. That movement alone made his ribs protest and his thigh burn like fire. But he gritted his teeth, dug in his heels, and stood.
His leg buckled the instant he put weight on it.
Leon caught him before he could fall. “Okay. That’s enough heroics for one morning.”
Karl growled. “I’m not done.”
“Yes, you are,” Leon said. “You can barely stand.”
