Page 59

DAMON

I would’ve gotten my ass out of my office if my sentinel, Amber, wasn’t standing watch over me on the other side of the door. I blew out a sigh. The billing matters would not resolve themselves, and I had been procrastinating long enough as it was, but filing through paperwork was boring as fuck.

A supple body and chocolate doe’s eyes flashed to mind. My mouth watered and I could almost taste the honeysuckle of her mouth—the velvet heat of her tongue. Fingers twitched as I memorized the swell of her bountiful breasts. Her nipples, like dusky dewdrops, were made just for me.

I chuckled. Sasha had such a wicked tongue, sharp and barbed.

She could engage me in a verbal battle on any level—over any topic.

Sasha always kept me on my toes, leaving me guessing.

I’d just finished eating breakfast with her in my bedroom and brought a tray of fresh pancakes with two thick cuts of bacon and scrambled eggs on the side.

A ball of happiness kicked into my heart as I spotted the surprised joy that shone in her eyes and tugged at her lips. She had acted shy before taking a strip of bacon, then her shoulders fell as she caught sight of me slipping into bed beside her. Disappointment. She had not wanted me there.

I fisted my hand around the pen I held while remembering.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was still sour with me over my parting words back at my sister’s cabin.

I had been an ass. But I usually was a jerk when Sasha pissed me off, and I had had about enough of her domineering behavior.

Not to mention her demanding that I leave my own bedroom.

I frowned as I thought back to when she had become so prickly.

And those damn tears when I had pulled away from her, moments before I would’ve made love to her.

She had hissed in pain, crimson blooming across her bandages.

I feared hurting her any further. I would not cause her added suffering.

So I had drawn back, slipped my fingers from her silken folds. Then the crying began.

The pen snapped, black ink splattering over my skin. I snarled, flinging the ink off my hand, splotches pelting the desk and paper.

“Dammit.”

A knock sounded. I raised my head and sniffed the air. I smiled at the familiar scent.

“Come in.”

A stocky male entered. His brown eyes glinted, dark brows lowered. The down-turned tips of his lips caused unease to settle in my gut.

“What’s wrong, Rick?”

My senior sentinel and best friend since cub hood stood in my office like he was going to announce we were at war with the Fae Realm. I straightened in my seat. Whatever he had to say was important. Rick hesitated, the gray shirt he wore bunching as his shoulders stiffened.

“Rick, what the hell do you have to say?”

He opened his mouth, yet no sound spewed forth. Then he closed his mouth. I could see him struggling to find the words. I willed my inner bear to settle down, and grasped for patience.

“The female latent wolf,” Rick began, his voice gruff. “Is she fully healed?”

I blinked at him. “Sasha, you mean?”

Rick gave a quick nod.

The tension along my back eased, my muscles unfurling.

That’s why he came here?

I was pleased he was concerned about Sasha. My friend must have sensed my concern for her and wanted to know about her well-being. “No, she’s not fully recovered. But she’s just about healed.”

“What does that mean?”

I faltered, not sure where he was going with this. “Perhaps a few more days. A week.” I cocked my head. “You should really ask Balin about this.” I chuckled. “I’m no healer.”

Rick shifted. He then approached my desk. “Isn’t it time Sasha returned to her own pack?”

A flicker of irritation flitted inside my chest. “No. And until Balin clears her, she stays.”

Lips twisted and nostrils flaring, Rick’s face leaked with agitation. “A werewolf does not belong in Stoneclaw.” He flung a hand at the window, gesturing toward my cabin across the yard to where Sasha slumbered in the bedroom. “She’s the enemy!”

I placed my palms on top of the desk and rose to my full height, letting my dominance seep out.

Rick shuddered as my sheer power buffeted him, though he kept his gaze fastened on me, a feat not easy to accomplish.

“Sasha has not harmed one soul in this clan.

Do you still spout lies that she's the enemy?” My bitter words sounded edged in steel.

But Rick pressed on, his eyes blazing. “Just because she has harmed no werebears in our clan does not mean she’s not a threat,” he hissed. “Are you really going to allow your father’s memory to go down in shame for laying with that she-wolf?”

My eyes popped wide.

His upper lip curled. “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve bedded her. I can smell her on you.” He tossed his head, nose wrinkling. “What would your father think?”

A vicious snarl tore from my chest. As if sensing the danger he was in, Rick ducked his chin, his gaze skating away from mine. But he had already unleashed my temper. And it stormed with the same violence as a tempest.

My vision altered, going red, as my gaze glowed—my inner bear brushing under the surface of my skin.

Wicked fangs poked out, and I growled, “Get the fuck out.”

Rick spun and scurried toward the door, but my parting words stopped him in place.

“The only reason I haven’t carved your face open is because you’ve been my closest friend since cub hood.

But make no mistake.” I shook my head, glaring at him.

“Cross me again… breathe one word about Sasha and I’ll send you to meet my father. Is that understood?”

I heard Rick’s audible swallow as he gave a jerky nod. Then he swept beyond the door, out of sight.