Page 38 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Can you, um, elaborate on that body part?” The words escape my lips, playful yet full of curiosity, and now I mentally face-palm myself for allowing my impulsive side to take the reins, but there’s no reining it back now. I’m all-in it seems, dancing on the edge of a cliff that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

He sets me gently on the island, stepping between my legs. A current of heat wafts from him, enveloping me in an invisible embrace that lights up my body from the tips of my toes to the last strand of my hair. He’s the epitome of restraint, like a gentleman wrestling with desire held back by an unspoken barrier I want to crash through. I sense that I could unleash the storm within him with the slightest nod, setting us both adrift in its fury.

You’re hurt, Ava, remember? Stupid broken bones serving as a glaring and unnecessary reminder of my vulnerability…or maybe my mortality.

“It means that if I wanted to lift Brody’s shirt to savor the scent of desire you keep releasing into the air, then I would,” he declares, his dark eyes smoldering like coals on the brink of ignition, heavy-lidded with intent as his hands find their rightful place on either side of my thighs. The air between us crackles, as if I needed a reminder of the chemistry between us.

I swallow hard, my voice emerging as a breathy whisper that barely masks the whirlwind of emotions within me. “That doesn’t sound so terrible.”

“No?” His laugh is full of dark promises and velvety challenges, echoing in the space between us. “Oh, I wouldn’t merely stop at a taste. No,” he rumbles, his breath a heated whisper against the shell of my ear sending ripples of anticipation and trepidation cascading down my spine. “See, I’d want to explore every inch of you until you pass out from the sheer intensity of it all, and then, after you’ve had a few hours to recover, I’d wake you up and start over. I’d claim you for my own needs, again and again, until you’re screaming my name loud enough to stir the gods themselves.”

Yes, I want that. All of that. I swallow again, feeling a rush of heat at his words, my body betraying my attempt to appear unfazed. “Still sounds like you’re trying to scare me off with a promise of endless orgasms.”

“Endless orgasms,” he echoes, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk that hints at both amusement and a raw, untamed yearning. He leans back, only to lift me from the counter before carrying me upstairs with ease. “No, baby, it wouldn’t be just a fleeting moment. It’d be an all-consuming storm you’d find yourself eager to be swept away by.”

“That’s it? Nothing more?” We reach the door to the room they prepared for me. He nudges it open with a gentle push and carries me to the bed, his every movement a mixture of tenderness and restrained power.

He draws the blankets back and lays me down with care that paints me as something infinitely precious yet unnervingly fragile, like a porcelain doll in the hands of an overbearing possessive alpha wolf. “That’s it, Ava,” he whispers, his presence a looming warmth. “Sleep, and should you need to rise again, don’t hesitate to scream.” With a wink, he retreats and flicks the light switch, plunging the room into a comforting darkness that wraps around me like a velvet blanket.

What the hell just happened?

Ava

Waking up ranks right up there with life’s most exasperating annoyances, wedged uncomfortably between unsolicited advice and the relentless buzz of my phone, which, at this ungodly hour, aggressively campaigns for the top spot on my list of pet peeves. I pride myself on being a deep sleeper, deeming it a skill, an art form, and yes, let’s go ahead and call it a hobby.

Who’s going to challenge me on that?

Today, however, my phone’s unyielding insistence slices through my dedication to slumber like unwelcome beams of sunlight piercing through flimsy, bargain bin curtains. I let out a groan that’s more of a growl, the sound smothered by my pillow, as I begrudgingly extend an arm, fumbling for the source of my irritation. It’s a group video call from the girls, and just like that, I’m mentally arming myself to give Eloise a piece of my mind. She definitely has some explaining to do after last night’s drama with the guys.

I swipe to answer, my eagerness tinged with a sprinkle of dread. “What in the world, Eloise?” I grumble, propping my phone against a mountain of pillows to free my hands as I make a half-hearted attempt to scrub the sleep from my eyes.

“Chill, we only did what you would have done in a heartbeat,” Eloise retorts, her voice ringing with a mischief that her words try to downplay.

Mia chimes in, her tone holding caution and curiosity. “But did it actually work?”

“Oh, so you’re in on this scheme too?” I snap back, catching their sheepish yet defiant gazes. Mia’s hair is pulled back so tightly, it seems to be stretching her eyebrows, giving her an expression of perpetual surprise.

Dragging myself up into a sitting position, I let out a heavy sigh. “You two are incorrigible, and now you’re accompanying me on my morning hobble to the bathroom.” I snatch a crutch and a pair of sweats as I mentally prepare myself to put pressure on my ankle, their chattering voices now a background hum I can easily ignore—a skill I perfected in college. Eloise used to think out loud while studying, Mia somehow aced tests without opening a book, and I…well, I desperately sought a bubble of quiet.

The house is silent as I limp across the hall, the wooden floor cold under my feet. After securing the bathroom door behind me, I’m confronted by my reflection in the mirror—a disheveled, sleepy mess. “Was anyone going to inform me that I look like I just clawed my way out of a grave?”

“We tried,” Mia retorts with a hint of acidity, her image squished in the corner of my phone screen, “but you were too busy plotting your grand hospital escape with Eloise’s half-baked plan.”

A snort escapes me. “Why on earth did you leave that page open on my phone?” My voice softens, a wave of guilt washing over me. “Do you guys realize we only have a month?”

Mia leans in, her eyebrows arching to her hairline. “So it’s actually happening?”

“Tell us everything.” Eloise’s voice crackles through my phone, her image pixelated but unmistakable against the backdrop of my cluttered office. The massive trash bag over the window flutters like a flag of surrender. I can tell she’s impatiently waiting for me to go on, even as she squints against the glare of the sun sneaking through my office curtains.

“I said the words that bound us together,” I mutter as I finally unearth a tote under the sink filled to the brim with toothbrushes. The minty scent of toothpaste momentarily distracts me, offering a brief respite from telling them exactly what happened.

“Oh shit,” Mia exclaims, looking between Eloise and me on the cramped screen of my phone. I can almost picture her, sitting in her overstuffed office chair that’s more throne than seat.

“Yeah, well, that’s just beginning,” I grumble, attacking the toothbrush with a generous dollop of toothpaste. The act feels like a feeble attempt to scrub away the mess I created—a mess that now includes a fated bond I barely understand.

What could go wrong? I question myself.

“How is forming a mating bond with three wolves the least of your worries?” Mia’s incredulity comes through loud and clear, even as her voice remains wrapped in the warmth we’ve all come to associate with our late-night confessions and early morning panic calls.

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