stream of blood trickled down her arm. Anger flashed through him. Connor grit his teeth against a growl as he went to find his first aid kit.
He’d had his fair share of fights, more and more over the past year as, one by one, his brothers found their mates through increasingly dangerous circumstances, so now he kept a pretty well stocked first aid kit in his suite.
This is fucking ridiculous, he thought to himself. We haven’t said two words to each other since we got up here, and she looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. But Connor couldn’t just let her leave. Brooke was hurt, and no matter how much she might hate him, there was no way he could just leave her or kick her out. Her words played over and over in his mind. You really have no idea what it takes to survive, to look after people! He had no idea what she’d meant by that. Was there something he was missing?
On the way back from grabbing the first aid kit, he paused at the bathroom doorway. Brooke had found her way in there and pulled off her sweater and blouse, leaving her perched on the side of the tub in nothing but a frilly bra and her black pencil skirt, which made her skin look even creamier. His eyes roamed across her; he’d never seen so much of her skin before.
Connor bit his lip, mentally shaking himself. This was not the time to get turned on. There were four angry red slashes running up and down her arm, though the blood was finally starting to staunch. Brooke pulled her long red hair over one shoulder and he caught a whiff of her intoxicating, earthy scent, eyes nearly rolling back in his head at how delicious it was.
“Motherfucker that hurts,” she hissed, gingerly prodding at one of the gashes. Connor winced in sympathy and she looked up at him with a half-hearted glare. He took a tentative step into the bathroom, the first aid kit raised like a peace offering.
“Let me help you,” he almost begged.
Brooke tensed. “I don’t need your help,” she snapped, holding out her hand for the first aid kit.
He huffed, mouth tight, but handed it over and retreated back to the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, mumbling under his breath, “Stubborn little-”
“Finish that sentence,” Brooke snarled, determined hazel eyes shining. “I dare you.”
Connor swallowed, dick growing hard in his slacks. He could get used to her looking at him like that. He pushed off of the doorframe, eyes never leaving hers. They looked so familiar.
“My bad, I’ll shut up,” he murmured, voice low.
Brooke huffed but her posture relaxed slightly. Her gaze flashed away from him and then back again, the corners of her mouth softening. “You do that.”
He looked down, a small smile creeping onto his face. They were still fighting, but it was a vast improvement on sitting in silence. They were making progress.
She was still looking at him and Connor raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the first aid kit unopened across her lap.
“Are you going to use that?” he quipped.
“What happened to shutting up?” she shot back, then paused before opening the little red box. “Why am I even here? I’ve got all of this stuff back at my apartment.”
Connor raised a brow as she rooted around for the antibacterial gel. “Because you yelled at me in the middle of the dining hall and, as your boss, I couldn’t just leave you bleeding and crying in my lodge.” He meant it as a joke but Brooke tensed up again, gritting her teeth.
“I wasn’t crying.”
He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. He made his way across the room towards her, swallowing around the lump in his throat as she watched him warily.
The air felt heavy as he sat on the tub’s edge beside her and reached for the first aid kit in her lap.
“Let me help-”
“I told you, I don’t need your help-”
“Your wound has to be cleaned. Either get on with it or let me do it for you.”
“Like I have a choice,” she huffed, and something snapped within him.
“Jesus, Brooke, of course you have a choice!” He raked his hand through his hair as they glared at each other, breathing hard. The alpha in him was snarling, demanding to be obeyed, but Brooke stared right back at him, a challenge in her eyes.
“Fine,” she ground out eventually, turning her back on him. Connor ripped open an alcoholic wipe with