His mouth drops open like he can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. He then gestures the length of his body. “Thought I wasn’t supposed to move ’cause of all the fuckingstitches.”
I catch the twitch of Corey’s lips out the corner of my eye. I wonder if Morgan would be so quick to mouth off if he knew what I was. What he’s surrounded by.
Part of me itches to find out.
“About that,” Corey hedges, and here goes. “Your wounds have healed faster than I was expecting. The injures you sustained weren’t as severe as we first thought.” His delivery is smooth, confident, not at all like it’s something we made up five minutes ago.
I can almost read the thoughts playing through Morgan’s mind. His first instinct is not to believe us. There’s no hiding the pain he was in when he first woke up here. Corey maintains his earnest expression and I see the moment Morgan decides to take him at his word.
He trusts him.
I don’t know why that comes as such a shock, but it does, and the jealousy that flares alongside it takes me by complete surprise. So does the tingle at the tips of my fingers.
Fuck’s sake.
I have seconds to react before claws pierce through the skin.
Shoving one hand behind my back, I grip the door frame with the other. The sound of wood splintering covered up by Corey’s loud cough.
Morgan glances between us, brow furrowed, but his gaze settles back on Corey. The way his expression softens make my teeth itch. “What’s that mean then?”
“Well, your stitches may need to stay in for a bit longer to be safe, but you can get up and move around. Just do it slowly to start with.”
My phone vibrates with a text.
Cal: He’s here.
As I read it, the sounds of a car approaching reach us through the open window. Morgan can’t hear it, but his phone lights up with a message. I know who it’s from the second he reads it. His body tenses, bottom lip drawn between his teeth before he looks at me this time. No softness in his gaze when it’s directed my way. “Ash’s here. What the fuck do I say to him?”
“As much of the truth as possible.” I match him for coldness, even as my claws still cling to the doorframe. “You came off your bike. We patched you up and you spent a few nights recovering. Simple.” The fact that he’s healed quicker than expected might work in our favour. At least we don’t have to explain why he’s not at a hospital.
“Right. And when he offers to give me a lift back home, am I just free to go?” One eyebrow rises in challenge.
No.
That’s the first answer that fights to come out. I don’t want to let him out of my fucking sight, but at this point I’m not a hundred percent sure why.
Liar.
“Yes.” I grit out. “If that’s what you want.”
“Flint said the Feral Beasts might come back to finish the job.” He spits it at me, but there’s an edge to his voice. He’s scared.
He should be.
But that’s not my problem. Itcan’tbe. I bury those feelings deep and shrug. “They might.”
“You utter fucking bastard. You really don’t give a shit, do you?” Underneath the contempt, there’s a trace of hurt, and it creeps under my armour striking deep. “Why go to the trouble of saving my life if you’re just gonna throw me to the wolves again?”
If you only knew how true that is.
He startles when he realises what he said, and I knowinstantly that Corey was right. Morgan Webb knows that shifters exist.
He fucking remembers.
He recovers quickly, chin tilting up. “Can I at least have some clothes if I’ve got to go meet Ash?” He gestures to the gown he’s wearing, and it hits me that he’s naked under there.
My claws lengthen even more.
