Page 37 of Bad Blood Alpha

Chapter 14

When Flynn woke up, Kira was still asleep. They’d fallen asleep spooned together, with her tucked up against his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so deeply.

Or woken up feeling so good.

She was still curled on her side, one hand loosely wrapped around the handle of the knife under her pillow.

He gave a half-smile and shook his head, then sobered down as his chest gave an unaccustomed ache.

She shouldn’t have to sleep like that. Fuck it, she should have one place where she felt safe.

Apparently, ‘in his arms’ wasn’t it.

Whatever he’d felt last night, she clearly hadn’t. Not the same way.

His lion grumbled, Protect her.

Yeah. If only I knew what the fuck she really needed.

He eased out of bed without waking her. He was hard again, aching with a longing to sink inside her and forget everything else, like he had last night.

But that wasn’t who he was, or what he did. Flynn didn’t lose himself. He paid attention. He kept watch. He’d only slept with her because she’d needed him to. For the magic.

Right. Even he didn’t believe that shit.

He’d done it because it was meant to be. Because he belonged to her—had belonged to her since he was twelve. But to her…well, it sure as fuck hadn’t been dutiful and boring. But that didn’t mean she still didn’t intend to go off and live her own life afterward.

Boring ever after.

Flynn was an expert at not showing what he was feeling. He could let her go without anyone ever knowing he gave a shit. But not until he knew she was safe.

He moved his left arm experimentally, expecting the bullet wound to pull. He didn’t feel anything. He moved over to the mirror, twisting to look.

The wound was completely healed—in only a few hours. That should have taken another day.

He stared at it, not sure what he felt. He should be glad—if even that much bonding magic could heal him, maybe it could heal her.

But if it had healed her on the first try, that was it. They were done.

Everything in him wanted to climb back in bed and pull her close. Kiss that vulnerable place at the back of her neck, feel her hair sweep across his chest when they lay together.

Feel her sheathing him with soft, wet sweetness.

Using all his willpower, he turned away. Instead he moved around the room, picking up Kira’s discarded shirt and the towel he’d used to wipe away her blood last night. It was selfish, hoping her healing would take longer. He couldn’t stand to see her the way she’d been last night. It would tear him apart.

And if she died…

No. He’d lost enough shifters he should have saved, ones too damaged from Grant’s torture to come back. Every one broke him a little more.

Losing her would finish him.

He left the room, dropping the shirt and the towel in the laundry room at the back of the house, then headed upstairs. It was still early; he’d only been asleep for about four hours. The crew would be showing up before long—they always had breakfast together in the main cabin on Sundays.

He had things to do before then, but he put them off a few minutes longer. Instead, he went to the concealed wall safe in his bedroom and pulled out a battered metal box, about four by six inches.

He balanced it on the palm of his hand, feeling its weight.

He hadn’t opened this in years. He’d kept it stashed, with the few other things that really mattered to him, in a safe place that no one would think to look. After he’d escaped from Alexander Fucking Grant and settled in the cabin, he’d cleaned out his stash and brought everything here.