Page 34 of Alpha’s Wife

I could go to the clinic to get it wrapped, but I don’t. My feet take me straight home because the urge to be near her is too fucking hard to ignore.

The whole way back, I could feel my wolf pacing, wanting even more blood despite spilling so much. He’s been like this for weeks—almost too big, close, and hungry, like he’s outgrowing me. The only one who ever makes him feel calm is her, and I’m too worn down tonight to pretend I don’t know it.

I see her through the pane of glass in the door, and she’s off the couch the second I walk inside, the blanket sliding off her knee onto the floor, and whatever she was going to say dies the moment she sees the blood.

“Goddess…Ronan,” she says, and she’s moving toward me before I can brush it off. I know it looks worse than it is now. “Sit down. Sit down.”

“It’s nothing,” I tell her.

“It’s not nothing, you’re bleeding all over our floor.” She says ‘our floor’ and I don’t think she even picks up on the slip, but I do. I let her walk me to the kitchen and push me into a chair with more strength than I was expecting. She comes back with a medical kit and starts working the buttons on my shirt in a way I don’t mind at all, then drops to her knees in front of me, and I have to fight to stop my wolf from wanting to take over and let her work despite the fact I’m enjoying the view. Getting injured suddenly seems worth it.

“This needs cleaning,” she says. “Hold still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply dutifully.

She gives me a dirty look, but there’s no bite in it; she looks genuinely concerned, which makes me cringe slightly, because I’m not used to it. She works the shirt off my shoulder, gasping at what’s underneath. I almost tell her she should have seen it before I shifted to kickstart the healing, but I don’t.

She cleans the gash along my ribs first, being so careful that I find myself holding my breath because this type of touch feels so different. Her fingers dance along my skin, and I feel a warming calm begin to settle in my bones. I glance down at her and look at her face, so full of concentration, but there’s something else, too, a sort of serene magic written across her beautiful features. My wolf realizes what she’s doing before I catch on—it’s the bond magic at work.

I watch as she finishes with my ribs and moves to the bite injury on my shoulder, which is the worst. She cleans the grit that remained after the shift, and she seems almost frustrated when I don’t flinch as she has to apply more pressure, as though annoyed that I’m not more upset about the situation. I let her tilt my arm where she needs it, let her press and tape and patch me up. I’m very aware that I’m doing what I never do, which is sitting still and letting someone take care of me.

“You’re quiet,” she says, not looking up.

“I’m always quiet,” I shrug, and she holds my shoulder more firmly.

“Not like this.” She presses a clean cloth to the shoulder for a moment, sitting back. “They were waiting for you tonight. Weren’t they?”

I don’t ask how she knows. She lives in this house, and she talks to the pack. She’s not stupid.

“An ambush,” I say. “First real one they’ve tried. I got everyone home, though.”

Her hand stills against my chest. “And if you hadn’t? If you hadn’t got everyone home?” She looks up. “Would it have been worth it?”

Any other night, I’d tell her to leave it. Say something just cutting enough to kill the whole conversation. But for some reason, I don’t have it in me tonight. The fight’s drained out of me and left the truth too close to the surface, and I can’t be bothered to hold it down.

“It didn’t happen because I didn’t let it,” I reply. “But no, losing people is never worth it. It happens, though, that’s war.”

“Does it have to be a war?” she asks, but it’s not really a question, and I think she knows it’s not one I’m going to answer.

She looks at me as the silence stretches before lifting her hand from my shoulder and laying it against my jaw, and the warmth follows it as I close my eyes like a fool who has almost forgotten to be on guard.

When I open them, she’s even closer, with her face tipped toward mine and her fingers still on my jaw. The room’s gone quiet around us in a way that has nothing to do with the fact it’s so late, and I can see the desire warring in her eyes.

“Ronan,” she whispers, and we both know she’s full of hesitation.

I should walk away; my wolf is so close to the surface, and she’s very breakable; I have no business reaching for her tonight of all nights.

But I reach for her anyway.

I tangle my hand in her soft hair and bring her mouth to mine. She comes, not a hint of hesitation, which surprises me, but I’m not going to question it. She pushes off the floor where she’d been kneeling, and I pull her into my lap. The kiss isn’t soft or gentle; it’s full of the days spent waiting for more.

“Your shoulder,” she says against my mouth.

“Don’t care,” I mutter.

“You’ll tear it open,” she protests, trying to shift her weight so she’s not leaning on my injury, but I hold her firm.

“Then you’ll just have to do the work,” I laugh, dragging her hips down onto mine, and she gasps when she realizes I’m already hard for her, straining at the front of my jeans. “Let me watch you take what you want for once.”