been as focused as he’d needed to be from the beginning of the fight. He’d been too damned happy and excited about the rehearsal that preceded the day he and Wolf got everything they wanted. It had been hard for him to settle down to the task of killing the man who had threatened to take it all away. The challenger had been a dirty fighter and big enough to use his weight as an advantage, making it harder for Grey to win. He had been able to pull it off unfocused, but barely. With a last lingering kiss to her neck, he limped stiffly into the bathroom and hit the warm tap. He should start to keep a running tally of how many stitches he ended up with in his lifetime. He was starting to look more and more like Frankenstein’s monster.
The sheet pooled on the floor around his feet, and he cocked his head at his reflection. In his sides and chest, he had multiple gashes, one rather long and accompanied by multiple puncture wounds. A long claw mark had crisscrossed the scar down his stomach, a slash went from his ear down the length of his jawbone, and the wolf had taken a large chunk of meat from his outer right thigh. That was the worst, and looked bruised and irregular, even stitched up. Twisting in the bathroom mirror, his back looked okay if he ignored the silver knife scar he’d taken saving Lana. He was always conscious of protecting the back of his neck during a fight and had managed to keep it virtually injury free. He would pat himself on that unscarred back if he could reach one of his arms around without pulling stitches.
The titillating scent of arousal filled the space, and he turned slowly. Leaning against the doorframe, Morgan studied him with a possessive spark in her eyes.
“Like what you see?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
A shy smile danced across her lips. “I’m a lucky woman.” She approached him slowly, then leaned her forehead on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He ran his fingers through her long hair and kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 8
Morgan padded quietly downstairs to assess the damage from last night. How was she going to explain all of what happened to Mom? She was already suspicious, and who could blame her? A month ago, Morgan had been living in a tiny house in a bad part of town, and now she was shacked up in a ranch mansion and getting married on a week’s notice to boot. She’d already answered the shotgun wedding question at least ten times, and then the rehearsal dinner goes down in flames? It was damage control time.
The sound of laughter vibrated against the bones of the house as it rang through the first floor. The wedding attendees were enjoying a huge breakfast around the island. Apparently, all tension from last night had escaped with the first rays of light. It seemed today wasn’t one to be ruined by the stubbornness of power hungry werewolves.
Mom dropped a set of red oven mitts and rushed to hug her. “Oh, Morgan! Are you alright, honey? Rachel and the boys told me about the coyote. Wade said it was rabid, and he had to give you a shot, and let me see that.” She swatted Morgan’s hand away so she could look at her neck. She ran a light fingertip against the bandage there. “Oh, how are we going to cover that up? It’ll be in every single picture today. Thank goodness, Grey was there with you. Wade said he got the worst of it, but he will be okay. And why didn’t you go to the hospital? You ridiculous young people! You think you’re invincible, but you aren’t. I always say that, don’t I?”
“Right. You always say that, yes.” She picked up and hugged Lana, who had been clinging to her legs. “Did you have fun sleeping in Mimi’s room?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Lana said with a solemn nod.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted you to tuck me in and you didn’t even sing me a lullaby.” When Lana’s little lips puckered out, Morgan covered her in kisses until she giggled.
“And where was your watchdog while that wild animal was after you?” Mom asked.
Lana pushed her cheeks together until she probably resembled a dolphin, her lips barely moving when she admitted, “I have no idea what you’re talking