Page 25 of Loan Wolf (Green Valley Shifters: Generations #1)

25

GABE

G abe hadn’t burst out of his clothing since he was a kid. Puberty had been a stormy time, and learning how to shift and manage his emotions had been a juggling act that had taken some time and most of his wardrobe to master. His torn-up T-shirt aesthetic wasn’t entirely by choice… at first.

He was glad that no one had witnessed him trying to struggle out of his ripped shirt and jeans as he bolted for Clara, and more glad that she hadn’t noticed the pieces of his wardrobe that were strewn off the sides of the path. At least his shoes had been in one piece, and he’d been able to scoop them up as he got back into the truck.

She seemed to accept his on-the-spot fabrications, but Gabe worried that she’d hit her head when she fell; she seemed distant and quiet since he’d found her.

Lick her, his wolf suggested. Curl up with her and comfort her!

“No,” Gabe said out loud.

This had already gone far enough.

Seeing her lying motionless in the broken ruins of a bush at the bottom of the cliff had nearly broken him. For one awful moment, he thought he’d lost her, and Gabe knew that he couldn’t go through that again.

Not ever.

He stomped down the stairs to his room in the basement and got swiftly dressed in fresh clothing. He paused to mourn his favorite jeans before hurrying back upstairs for the hall closest.

“I got your towel,” he said, knocking once on the door before entering. Clara didn’t protest his intrusion; it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her naked before.

“Thanks,” she said.

Gabe tried not to stare at the foggy silhouette of her as she rinsed her hair.

“You hungry?” he asked gruffly.

He was.

The adrenaline that had driven his paws to find her was wearing off, leaving an aching emptiness behind. He wanted to lick her as much as his wolf did, to hold her and assure himself that she was alright, to bury himself inside of her and hear her say his name.

Clara was quiet for a moment and Gabe wondered if she’d heard him over the sound of the running water. Just as he cleared his throat to repeat himself, she said, “Yes, please.”

Yes, please.

Because even all bruised up and battered, she was polite before anything else.

“Towel’s on the rack. The red one. Blood won’t show. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

If he stayed, he wasn’t going to be able to let her get dressed again.