He had assumed that becoming a wolf would erase me.
I gritted my teeth.
He was wrong.
CHAPTER 9
Tamsin
I woke some time later.
For a while, I lay there with my eyes closed, just listening to the low hum of the activity of the base, to distant footsteps, to the soft, steady rhythm of my own heart. It sounded… normal.
Eventually, I opened my eyes, and a soft sound came from the doorway.
I turned instinctively, muscles coiling without thought, and found Griff leaning against the frame. He’d clearly been there a while, watching me, his expression tight in that way that always meant he was thinking too much.
“You’re awake,” he grinned.
“Apparently,” I replied, feeling a small smile tug at my mouth despite everything.
His gaze flicked to my side. “Does anything hurt?”
I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”
Relief crossed his face so fast and so fiercely it stole my breath away. He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room in three long strides, stopping just short of me.
“Let me see,” he said.
I shifted the sheet and the coat on top of me, baring myself a little bit and turned slightly, letting him look at the scar the lycan had left behind. My face heated just a bit at the small exposure.
He stared at the faint mark for a long moment, jaw clenched, then lifted his eyes to mine. “You’ve healed completely. There isn’t even any bruising anymore.”
“Looks that way. You can stop hovering now.”
“Can’t,” he said immediately.
“Won’t,” I corrected.
He huffed out a breath.
“You’re still stubborn as hell.” I muttered.
“Pot, kettle,” he shot back, grinning in my direction and I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
Before I could come up with something suitably zingy to throw back at him, the door opened again.
Eamon stepped in first, hands already tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he’d been trying very hard not to hover in the hallway. His eyes went straight to me, quick and assessing, the way they always did, checking me over with the calm assessing look of the doctor he would always be.
“Well,” he said mildly, relief threading through his voice despite his attempt at calm. “How’s my most troublesome patient doing?”
I moved slightly against the pillow, suddenly very aware that I was lying there, still very much not dressed, and that Griff was hovering at my side like a particularly large, immovable piece of furniture.
“I’m not troublesome,” I retorted.
Eamon’s mouth twitched. “You woke up early, went running into the woods, shifted, hunted, bathed in a stream, and had to be carried back by one of your mates.”
I opened my mouth.
