“I’m sure.” She pushes me gently back down onto the mattress and begins to remove the dressings, her cool touch soothing my inflamed skin.
Sometimes, as she’s cleansing one of my gashes, I groan at the sharp sting, and then she rests her palm on my back, waiting until I murmur, “It’s okay; keep going.”
When Sophie reaches the deep bite on my shoulder and I shudder, she hisses with the fierceness of a Viking princess, “IhateRafe!”
When she’s finally finished, Sophie rises from the side of the bed, picks up the discarded bandages, towel, and bowl of water, and carries them out into the hall.
Then she whispers, “Sweet dreams, Teddy,” as she pulls the door closed behind her.
Chapter 30
My Wounded Werewolf
SOPHIE
Late, July 15
Until I met Teddy, the last time I wept this much was in high school, when Derek Taylor (Cassia’s dumbo ex-husband) asked her to senior prom instead of me.But now I’m tearing upall the time!It’s like there’s this deep well of ragged emotions buried within me that Teddy’s managed to tap… and voila… I’m a walking cloudburst.
And here I go again, sobbing as I wash out the water bowl, discard the soiled bandages and gauze, and change into my shorty pjs. When I finally stare at my swollen eyes in the bathroom mirror, I hiss, “Get a grip! Teddy doesn’t need your guilt… he needs your spunk and your strength.”
I tumble into bed, Zosia curling up at my feet, and stare up at the ceiling. Teddy’s story about almost dying—at the hands of his disloyal beta and thuggish Rafe—is too harrowing for me to fully absorb. I’ve gainedrenewed admiration for Auntie Dragonfly; not only did she help Teddy heal from his physical wounds but from some of his emotional scars as well.
I lean over, blow my nose again on a tissue, close my eyes, and try to clear away the image of Teddy’s battered body. I was so moved when I was changing his dressings that I brushed aside his golden strands of hair and contemplated kissing the back of his neck. But nurses don’t go around kissing their patients, even if some patients could really use the extra comfort; I gave myself a good mental shake and returned to cleansing his cuts and bites.
I awaken sometime after midnight to whimpering; it’s probably Zosia, who makes all kinds of little noises when she sleeps. I’m just drifting off again when I hear a loud crash and then shrieks, and they’re coming from Teddy’s bedroom. I have this sudden, irrational fear that Rafe has managed to break into his room to finish him off.
I hop out of bed and run down the short hallway, flinging open his door with such force it bounces off the wall. Teddy is thrashing around, his sheets all twisted up around him, shouting and flailing at the empty air. I rush over to his side, startled to find his hands have grown furry and his nails have elongated into sharp claws.
Not knowing what else to do, I throw my arms around him and murmur, “Hush now, you’re safe.” I glance around and can’t find anything amiss; Zosia must have knocked something over to create that crashing noise.
“Sophie?” Teddy’s one eye opens; the other is still too puffy. “What happened?”
“You were having a nightmare… and, um… your wolf is showing.” I point to his hands.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, full of remorse as he retracts his claws. “I shouldn’t be losing control like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him, my hands grasping the front of his tee, which he must have donned before going to bed. Teddy is such a modest man; it’s got to be mortifying for him to allow anyone other than Doc to tend to his injuries. “This used to happen to Jake when he had bad dreams after his parents died.”
“But Jake was a teen; I’m a grown man. My wolf should be better regulated.” Teddy shakes his head. “This isn’t going to work; I’m imposing too much on you. I should leave in the morning… I should…”
The rest of Teddy’s words are muffled into silence when I hold his gorgeous, damaged face steady and cover his lips with mine. My heart slams against my ribs as a tidal wave of raw emotion floods my senses, firing up my insides with the heat of a supernova.
I guess I’m not a very good nurse—because once I start kissing Teddy, and he grips my hair with a soft groan, returning the kiss—well I don’t stop; I keep kissing him, and he keeps kissing me back, a round robin of kisses and sighs and small moans. When we finally come up for air, I discover I’m lying next to him on the bed.
I’m really a terrible nurse, totally unprofessional.
But kissing Teddy is like nothing I’ve ever known; it’s hope and longing mixed with grief and pain, all hot andcold and tingly at once. Every part of me aches with such yearning for this damaged werewolf that I’m like a prodigal daughter who finally, after many seasons and stories, returns home to welcoming arms.
I don’t believe I will ever have my fill of Teddy and his warm lips and his strong embrace. This is momentous, but I can’t ponder what it all means right now; after all, I’m still Teddy’s nurse.
I pull back slightly, giving us both a bit more space on the pillow.
Teddy raises one bandaged hand to my cheek and rests it there. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I murmur.
His breath is warm on my face. “For fulfilling one of my lifelong dreams.”
