His scent gusted off his skin, crisp and heady, intensifying as he leaned over me to stroke a knuckle down Storm’s cheek. The forearm, which Bea had clawed up, brushed against my chest, and the contact woke my nipples right up. I wasn’t sure if it had been intentional. Until his gaze locked on mine, and his pupils spread with lust.
I held my breath.
His head lowered to mine.
Slowly.
So slowly.
The air thickened, churned with his smell, turning my heart into a tambourine. When our mouths were an inch apart, his phone’s alarm blared, ripping Storm from his peaceful slumber with an eardrum-shattering wail. With a sigh, Liam sat back and plucked his son off the bed with one hand, then stood and spoke quietly into the little one’s ear until his sobs receded.
I rolled off the bed, prodding my temple. The lump had softened, but it was still tender and swollen. “I should get home and shower.” I folded up the towel, which was lightly streaked with blood.
“If you give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll go with you.”
“No convulsions, which means my brain is fine.” I walked toward the door. “You should get to Pondside early.”
Although he wasn’t particularly appeased with my insistence to go back to my place for a shower and a change of clothes, he didn’t put up a fight. Probably because I reeked of dried blood and resembled mangled roadkill. I hadn’t even realized the extent of my resemblance to a trodden rodent until I caught sight of my reflection in my bathroom mirror. How he had evenwantedto kiss me was mystifying.
I made sure to correct that with lots of shampoo, which stung my scalp—no way would I sport blood-crusted hair tonight though—and a hefty layer of concealer.
The nap had reinvigorated me, and by the time I made my way to Pondside with Niall, I felt ready to take on any shifter out for blood.
Chapter 33
Most of the pack was already present by the time Niall and I arrived. I walked up to the table my family had colonized, Lucas, Storm, and Lori in their midst. Liam was standing in the middle of the room, conducting quiet conversations with a few animated shifters. Grant’s father and sister were among the disgruntled huddle.
They kept casting dirty glares toward Lori, who sat half-hidden between Nate and Lucas, while I headed toward my father.
“How’s the head, Pinecone?” He bobbed his leg, making Storm jiggle as though he were horseback riding.
“All better, Daddy.”
“You’re not saying that because you want to spare me, right?”
“No. I swear.”
As though he’d heard my father’s concern, Darren walked over to us with his wife, and parted my clean hair to take a look at my stitches. “Stitches held, and you’re no longer bleeding. How’s the temple?”
“Much better too.” I smiled to reassure him.
As he exchanged words with my father about what wine to pair with roasted lamb, and his wife fussed over Storm, a familiar voice asked, “What happened to your head?”
I turned in my chair, found Grant staring at the back of it. “Nothing. I just fell.”
“You got stitches, Nikki, so it’s not nothing.”
For all his faults, Grant had never been pitiless. Even cowards could be considerate. “I swear, I’m fine.”
As I checked the room to see if everyone had arrived, I found Liam’s eyes grinding a hole in the back of Grant’s skull.
Everyone, please settle down so we may begin.Liam’s terse voice boomed, dimming all ambient noise.
Chairs scraped the slate flooring. The younger shifters flopped cross-legged onto the floor. Others leaned against the wall or the bar or against each other. The last time I’d been at Pondside with the entire pack was when we were still Creeks. How fast and avidly we’d adopted our new heritage. Then again, most of us had never liked being Creeks.
I’d been born an Aspen, and then, six years ago, Cassandra Morgan had walked onto the compound with her puny pack and challenged our Alpha. The fight lasted mere seconds, yet I remembered the gory battle in vivid detail. Remembered the ensuing battles, because many Aspens had challenged her.Allhadlost their lives. Grant’s father had longed for a brawl, but his grandmother, a mighty frightening female, had put her paw down.
I had no doubt that, had Grant’s dad been a decade younger, he would’ve challenged Liam. He’d apparently tried to get his kids to do it, but neither possessed David Hollis’s political aspirations. Camilla was too much of an introvert, and Grant too irresponsible. I mean, the guy couldn’t deal with me and my busted knee; how in the world would he have dealt with a pack and all of its issues?
