Page 108 of Rescued By the Beast
"I need clothes..." I murmur to myself.
The dress and boots I hid outside are dirty. I prefer to borrow another of Mark's shirts; I like to feel his scent on me. Before going upstairs, I grab one of the nourishing potions I left in the fridge and take it with me.
"Ah, you managed to transform. I was just about to go downstairs to get the potion anyway," Ethan comments, looking satisfied.
"Yeah... I don't know how or why I can do it, but... I'm relieved to finally be myself, even if only for a few moments."
I hand him the potion and go to Mark's wardrobe, grabbing some clothes before getting dressed in the bathroom. When I come back, my attention falls on the man in bed.
"Did he react while showering?" I ask.
"Yes. He recognised me and got up with my help. Which was good, because I don't have the strength to carry his weight alone." He seems embarrassed by this realisation. "I managed to get him to brush his teeth and take a shower, but he was dazed, babbling things I didn't understand. As soon as I settled him in bed, he went back to sleep.
“ What about his injuries?”
"The injuries on his arms and legs are already in the maturation phase, so I removed the stitches. But the ones on his torso are still in the initial phase..." Ethan turns to me, looking as exhausted as I am. "I think his essence will mend his broken ribsfirst, but it's not enough to continue the healing process right now.
So Mark is getting stronger, little by little, but he is.
I breathe a sigh of relief and sit down on the edge of the bed next to him.
"Do you mind if I sleep on the sofa again?" Ethan asks. "I want to be nearby when he wakes up."
"Of course not, feel free."
My hunger manifests itself. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast and I didn't have time to prepare anything for my feline form before I was dragged into the transformation.
I go downstairs with Ethan, we make a sandwich and eat before each going our separate ways.
I brush my teeth, take a shower, and finally lie down with Mark, being careful not to touch his injuries. He occupies the middle of the huge bed, so I settle down on his uninjured side.
I turn on my side to watch him and bite my lip. My hand finds his face, gently tracing his jawline to his neck, then down to his chest, where I rest my palm over his heart.
I gasp when large fingers wrap around my wrist and, in a blur of movement, Mark advances on me, pressing me against the mattress.
His golden eyes, alert and lucid, are fixed on mine. His breathing is heavy, rapid; his lips parted, his canines elongated. He lowers his face, advancing towards my neck.
By the stars, how could I have been so stupid?
Touching him, sleeping next to him after he had been brutally injured...
He must have woken up in combat mode, instinctively.
My body stiffens, and I close my eyes, anticipating the tear of sharp teeth or claws lacerating my throat.
But the attack never comes.
Instead, he sniffs me, growling as he brushes his teeth against my skin. His warm tongue slides over the frantic pulse of my jugular, and then...
"Kitten," he growls, and my eyes widen.
His lips brush my jaw, moving up to the corner of my mouth.
I gasp, and my legs instinctively open, allowing him to settle more comfortably between them.
Mark supports part of his weight on one arm and moves his face slightly away, his eyes merging with mine.
The intensity I find in them takes my breath away.
