Page 51 of Forbidden Bonds
Lucian steps through the door behind the healer. “Ease it down a notch, dipshit,” he grumbles. “Let him heal your mate.”
Rhett’s grip on my hand tightens. He swallows and nods.
The healer walks cautiously around the other side of the bed to me, eyeballing Rhett the whole time, which is understandable when Rhett’s eyes are tracking his every move, tense and protective emotions rippling through the bond.
The healer stops beside me.
I brace. I know he needs to kiss me, but Rhett’s rumbly growl is creating a sense of anxiety that counters the healer’s strong desire to ease my suffering.
The kiss is brief. I sigh. The healer is already clearing his throat and standing up.
“She should, ah, be fine now,” he mumbles and stalks out the door.
Rhett cups my chin, turning me to face him. “Don’t look at him, baby.”
My emotions are all over the place, relief, love—and I am an omega, so Rhett’s aggression is having a predictable effect.
“Close the door,” he says gruffly.
Lucian mutters something and snaps the door shut.
I keep my eyes on Rhett.
“Let me see,” he says.
His hand is gentle as he tugs the string at the back of my medical gown and draws it forward over one shoulder.
Going on the way it felt, I suspect the bruising was spectacular. Now the skin is pink and unblemished.
His hand is gentle as it brushes over my collarbone and down between my breasts.
“Does it hurt at all? Any pain?”
I shake my head. “No, none. Just a little woozy, I suppose, from whatever the drug was. Did it work?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It worked. We got the mofo. Also, Ethan’s been placed in custody.” He grins. “There has to be some due process, for appearance’s sake. Maybe they’ll leave him there.”
His thoughts darken for a moment, but he reins them in quickly and his expression turns speculative. “Anything you want to tell me, baby?”
My eyes widen and I swallow. “No, I don’t think so.” Guilt must be written all over my damn face.
He smirks. “You forget I can read your mind? Quite a slick move. Took me a beat to realize what you did. You done that before?”
He’s talking about me plucking a memory from the thug’s mind and using it to terrorize him.
“No,” I say. “And I have no desire to do it again.” I shudder. “It made me feel polluted and cruel… But he was hurting you. I just wanted him to stop.”
He nods, takes my hand and brings it to his lips in an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture. Then he smirks and gives me a hot look. “Lucky me, mating a badass omega.”
The purr and pride in his voice have me melting—damn it, I’m too old to be blushing.
“Is that it?” I say changing the subject because the panty-melting level of adoration he’s giving off is distracting me. “Are we free now? Can we go home?”
“Fuck yeah, we can go home.”
He presses his lips to mine, to the corner of my mouth, and then across my jawline. The side of my throat, right over the claiming mark, and then the center of my chest, where the bruising must have been.
My breath catches. He’s so tender, so devastatingly gentle.
