Page 75 of Wolves & Watercolors
Tears pooling in my eyes and hands shaking, I press my key card to the door. Finally it turns green. The moment it unlocks, I shove the door open and dart in, grabbing for my phone. It’s dead.
Cedar stumbles in and sits on the bed. Hands shaking, I plug my charger cord into the wall outlet and connect my phone. It drops from my hands when Cedar falls back on the bed.
“Cedar!” my cry echoes in the small, cold room.
He mumbles something about being okay.
“You most certainly are not!”
Sinking on to the bed beside him, I press my hands over his wound. Terror races through me until my entire body trembles. His hand drapes over mine, gently squeezing my wrist.
I love him. I can’t lose him.
That love mingles with my fear, heightening both until I’m bursting with that buzz I now recognize is magic.
There are no plants to absorb it. I can’t contain it. It pours out of me, through my hands into Cedar’s chest. Instinct guides me, and somehow my fear ebbs as my affection for him swells.
Cedar gasps, his eyes going wide. He pushes up, sitting and twisting to face me. I let my grasp on the magic slip away, pulling it back into myself.
For a moment he stares at me, and then he pulls his shirt up, wiping at the blood to uncover perfectly smooth skin. No wound.
I poke at the spot, jerking back when he squirms.
“I’m fine. You healed it,” he says, taking my bloody hand in his own.
My thoughts are jumbled. “I can’t, what?”
“Shifter healing is fast, but not that fast. It had to be your magic.”
“No way.” I gawk at him. Wiping my wrist across my cheeks, my skin comes away wet. I was crying. Still am.
He grins at me, wiping at his stomach again.
“You almost died!” Choking on a sob, I smack his chest with my palm.
Catching my wrist, he brings it to his mouth and places a kiss on my pulse point. “I’m sorry, Little Witch.”
“It’s not your fault!” Launching forward, I fall into him. His blood soaks into my shirt, ruining it, but I don’t care. The healed skin it reveals soothes something inside of me.
He wraps his arms around me and laughs softly into my hair as more tears drip down my cheeks.
“I was so scared,” I confess. Craning my neck back, I fix him with a glare. “You aren’t allowed to ever get hurt like that again.”
“I’ll do my best.”
As I scowl up at him, he lowers his head and brushes his lips over my forehead, trailing kisses over my cheekbones.Greedy for his touch, I turn in his arms until I can kiss him properly.
With my arms wrapped around his neck, his hands pressing the small of my back to urge me closer, we kiss until the room is spinning.
“Seeing you like that was the worst moment of my life,” I gasp. “I don’t think I can live without you.”
He pauses, lifting up from where we’ve sprawled, tousled hair framing his handsome face. “Good, because I feel the same.”
As if that was all that is needed to be said, he lowers his mouth to my neck and nibbles at the skin. Curling against him, I hook a leg over his hips and run my hand down the bare skin of his back, enjoying how the muscles flex under my fingers as he moves, curling around me protectively.
“I love you,” he murmurs without taking his lips off my throat. Vibrations zip through my skin and blood like the love he promises. Warmth fills me up from my chest, radiating out to my hands and feet until I’m desperate to shed our clothing lest I burst into an inferno.
“Me too,” is all I can say, flames licking under my skin. The words are barely audible, but he knows. This man can read me, attentive to every expression and half-spoken word. He cares about all of it, and I know I am safe with him. He’s proven over and over he will protect me and take my side.
