Hold Steady (Becoming the Wolf Book 2) Page 11

  Next crucial decision. Bath or shower? She couldn’t move her right arm up too high or her ribs screamed, but she wanted to shampoo the basement-floor slime from her hair. Was there even a way to scrub her entire scalp using only her left hand?

  A soft knock sounded against the restroom door. “Morgan,” Grey said, “I’m going to run out and get you new clothes. The hotel said they’ll bring the food up in about an hour, but I should be back by then. There is a store right down the street that should have everything you need, so I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, could you pick up—” Oh good grief, she couldn’t even bring herself to ask him to pick her up undergarments if she tried. She was desperate for them, and they would make her feel human again, but she couldn’t imagine him whistling down the lingerie aisle picking out panties for her. Kill a pack of werewolves bent on hurting her? Yep. Asking the lingerie sales lady what she thinks would look best on her minimal décolletage? Not in a million. “Uhhh, never mind.” She would have to do her shopping later.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Under her breath, she muttered, “just trying to figure out how to bathe myself.”

  He opened the door and peeked his head inside. Stupid werewolf hearing. She didn’t even bother covering herself this time. Cocking her head, she arched her eyebrow. What was the damn use? He had already seen her in all of her black-and-blue naked glory anyway.

  He strode in and turned the bathwater on hot, and took a brush from the set of complimentary toiletries sitting by the sink. He faced her away from the mirror and combed through the snarls and tangles of her long stands.

  “Lana misses you,” he said. “I’ve talked to her on the phone a few times since yesterday, and Rachel and Marissa are keeping her busy. She hasn’t talked about the night you were taken yet, but I bet she will if we give her time. I don’t think she really understands what happened.”

  “I don’t understand it either. Lana wasn’t the Montana pack’s target after all?”

  “You were the target all along. They just used her as bait. She’s fine other than a bruised backside. She doesn’t have a single scratch on her.”

  “On her outsides. Being taken by a stranger like that will be something she’ll remember though. Grey,” she whispered before she could change her mind. “Thank you for saving her. Right before you showed up, there was a moment where I thought I was done. Lucan and Marshall said you were dead, but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. I had to think that when I died, you’d be there for Lana.”

  The only sound in the room was that of the rhythmic rush, rush of the comb running through her hair.

  Grey turned off the water to the tub, unwrapped her ribs, and she stepped in, groaning softly as hot water hit sore muscles. Grey gently shampooed her hair, careful to avoid her injuries.

  By the time she was finished scrubbing her skin raw the bath water had turned brown from all of the dirt and dried blood that had washed off of her. Grey pulled one of the robes from a hook on the door and wrapped it around her, but he didn’t close it right away. Instead, he searched her face, and then opened it wider, went down to his knees in front of her.

  Her heart pounded so hard in her chest as he eased her back against the counter. Gently, he ran his fingertips from her ankles to her knees, up, up, to her thighs. Leaning forward, he kissed her between her legs, and then gently clamped his teeth onto the tender part of her inner thigh. Chills rippled up her body, and she whispered his name, gripped his hair and arched her head back.

  He sucked on her clit and her legs buckled, but Grey was ready for that. He held her in his strong arms, propped her up and didn’t let her fall as he licked her over and over. And when she was shaking and begging, he thrust his tongue deep into her and hummed against her. Harder and faster he thrust his tongue into her, building the pressure in her middle. Building until she couldn’t hold on anymore. She cried out and her body shattered around his tongue, gripping him in fast, hard pulses.

  Her body melted into the ground as he lowered her to her knees. She rested on her shins, the aftershocks rippling through her as he grinned and ran his fingers up the slickness he’d created between her legs.

  “Do you know how bad I want to fuck you right now?” he growled. “Do you know how bad I want to put my scent all over you so every male in every pack knows exactly who you belong to?”

  “Then do it,” she dared him, digging her nails into his powerful thighs.

  He teased her entrance with his fingertips. “Woman, I wish I could. I’m half-dead though and need a night to recover. Doesn’t mean I’m done with you yet though.” His smile turned wicked and he slid two fingers inside of her. “That was one. I have plans to make you come a few times, feed you, and put you to bed. I’m gonna get you to sleep good tonight, knowing your exact place in this world.”

  “Mmmmm,” she groaned, rocking her hips to the rhythm he set. She was already getting close again. “And what is my place?”

  Grey leaned forward and nibbled her earlobe, and then whispered, “Right beside me.”

  And her body shattered again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bunny killer? Yes.

  Public indecency? Also yes, but not on purpose.

  Trespassing? With vigor.

  Accomplice to the murder of an entire pack? Yeppy-yepperstine.

  Stalker? Morgan sighed and tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Just add it to her tab.

  It had been three days since they’d made it back from her little abduction adventure. Three nights of him staying over at her house, and seventy-two glorious hours of feeling safe with him again. He’d had some work to do while she had caught up on graphic design orders, and she’d missed him in the last three hours, like a stage five clinger. So…she’d come bearing gifts. Well, actually, she’d gone to his apartment bearing gifts, but apparently, he didn’t live in the city anymore.

  Apparently, he lived here, in the woods, in this log mansion.

  Geez, things had changed since she’d been Turned. How had he kept this place a secret?

  Here she sat, chilling in her truck on the edge of the trees, wondering how the heck Grey had missed the sound of her rig coming up his dirt driveway. The man seemed to be working out some demons as he chopped wood. The loud crack of an ax biting into the wood he was maiming echoed through the meadow his sprawling log home was nestled into. His shirt was in a fortunate pile off to the side and his muscles stretched and moved under his skin as he worked. His biggest scars were new and angry, and they made him look dangerous. And yummy.

  She had to stop stalling. As enjoyable as it was to watch him work, she would either be busted shortly or spontaneously ovulate. Or both. She stifled a shiver. He could say no.

  This was the scary part of all of this. What if he didn’t want to go back to the way they’d been? What if he wanted to build slowly, and she was rushing this?

  Together, they had a history so deep, it had created them both. His love for her had turned her into the same kind of monster he was, but her need for independence had created a canyon between them.

  She pressed her foot on the gas lightly and his head jerked in her direction. His eyes were so golden they looked yellow from where she picked her way down the dirt road to his house.

  He smiled. Just a small one where the corners of his mouth turned up, but it was one of her favorites. A smile he only gave to her. She waved but her heart skittered. He could still say no. Sure, she was the Silver Wolf, and bla bla bla, but she knew now for certain that wasn’t why he was with her. He’d proved it, and now it was her turn to make him feel safe. To show him she was on the upswing of coping with her inner wolf, and her new life, and that she wouldn’t push him away again.

  She’d needed that space to discover her new self, and accept everything that had happened, and now she was more confident in Grey than ever.

  He was it. He’d always been it, but she’d needed to break for a while to figure it out.
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  When she came through the clearing, her eyes widened in wonder. She leaned forward to take in the full expanse of his log cabin. He’d been living just across Dallas pack borders this whole time. She had been Changing and hunting with the other wolves right next door to him, and hadn’t even known he was building this sanctuary.

  The house was beautifully built but blended in with the rugged landscape just right. The size of the house was overwhelming, or maybe she was just used to living in her cramped matchbox house in the city. A huge front porch led up to the door and the railings had animal motifs in the same style as the box Grey had given her when he’d proposed. Back when everything was simple and easy. He must have carved these as well.

  Huge windows stretched across the main front wall and the logs on the exterior of the home had been stained dark. The house was two stories. On the second story, another balcony came off one of the bedrooms, probably the master, and two other bedroom windows had small balconies as well. Once upon a time, in her old life, this had been her dream.

  Now, her dream had changed. She would’ve lived in a box if it was with Grey.

  A place wasn’t home for her anymore. Grey was.

  She clenched the wheel in a white-knuckled grip and checked the mirror. Light violet eyes reflected back at her. At least her face had healed, so there was that. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered, her hands shaking with nerves.

  She got out and shut the door gently behind her.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined you in this place?” he asked. “None of them can touch the real thing.” He set the ax against a chopped log, and walked slowly closer.

  “I went to your apartment. An older lady and her grandson live there now, so that was a surprise. I had to call Rachel and ask her where you lived. You were so near to me this whole time and I didn’t even know. Now I guess it makes sense that night in the woods, when you were over the property line, right across the barbed wire fence.” She looked around, bewildered. “I didn’t know this was yours.”

  She lowered her gaze to the long, uneven scar snaking down his torso. The scar he’d received while protecting her. She closed her eyes. She had to be brave and tell him how she felt. “I have something to say, but I’m not good with this kind of thing.”

  Grey nodded. “Okay. You can tell me anything.” And she knew that was true. There was another layer in safety with that.

  “I needed time, from when I was Turned to now, to see things clearly. To figure things out. To figure myself out. I needed space, but I didn’t want the space, if that makes any sense. I didn’t want to talk to you until I knew what I wanted, so I could stop hurting us both.” She searched his gaze and was met with blue in his eyes. There he was—her Grey. “Everything felt wrong and empty when I was staying away from you. It made me appreciate you more. The hundred things you did to show me you cared that I didn’t realize before. I know it was a really hard time for us after I was Turned. I wish I could go back and be better at learning how to be a werewolf. I made bad decisions, but for what I thought were good reasons for me, and for Lana. I can’t change anything that has happened. I wish I could, but I can’t. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am.”

  “Morgan, stop,” he murmured, pulling her waist to him. “You’re beating yourself up for something I don’t hold against you. You know what I did for the first year I was a werewolf? I fucking nose-dived off the edge of sanity.” He arched his eyebrows at her giggle. “I really did. I can’t even imagine trying to keep up a relationship, or take care of a kid. I couldn’t even take care of myself. But you know what I saw after you Turned?”

  “What?” she asked. His opinion mattered more than anything.

  “I saw a woman make a conscious decision to take time to heal. I was the one who rushed us. I wanted that ring on your finger, I wanted my last name on you, and I didn’t care about the timing. I just knew. I still know. But you got Turned, and it was a complicated transition.”

  “Yeah I’m a Silver Wolf. It’s the worst.”

  His chuckle was deep and filled her heart. “The literal worst. You know the best part of all of this though?”

  “What?”

  “You came back. You didn’t change so much that I didn’t recognize you, or that we don’t fit together anymore.”

  “We fit better now,” she whispered, tears burning her eyes.

  Grey stroked his knuckle across her cheek. “Yeah, Morgan. We fit even better. We wouldn’t if you hadn’t taken that break to figure out who you are. You got to know your new self, and now look at you.” He lifted his chin and pride swam in his eyes. “You turned into a badass she-wolf. Now you own what you are. Now you fight, and you don’t cower away from what you’ve become. It’s so damn fun to watch you come into your own. Little phoenix wolf. Are you ready yet?”

  Hope bloomed in her chest, and her heart pounded so hard against her sternum. “Ready for what, Grey?” she asked, already knowing the question.

  “To come home.”

  She rocked forward and rested her forehead against his chest, nuzzled his warmth. When she nodded against him, he lifted her up and hugged her so tight, her feet dangling off the ground as she laughed and wrapped her arms around him.

  “I never left you, Morgan. Not even for a minute.”

  “Me either.” Morgan eased back and cupped his cheeks, searched those golden eyes that were so full of love for her.

  Their path hadn’t been smooth. It had been rocky as hell, and perhaps it always would be, but that was okay as long as she got to be with him.

  Loved by him, coveted by him, protected by him.

  And for the rest of her days, she would do the same for Grey.

  He was loved. He was coveted. He was safe.

  “Greyson Crawford, I’m still here…and I promise I always will be.”

  Up Next in this Series

  Grey and Morgan’s story continues in

  Protect Mine

  (Becoming the Wolf, Book 3)

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  About the Author

  T.S. Joyce is an 80-time bestselling author devoted to bringing hot shifter romances to readers. Hungry alpha males are her calling card, and the wilder the men, the more she'll make them pour their hearts out. She lives in a tiny town, outside of a tiny city, and devotes her life to writing big stories. Foodie, bear whisperer, ninja, thief of tiny bottles of awesome smelling hotel shampoo, nap connoisseur, movie fanatic, and zombie slayer, and most of this bio is true.

  Bear Shifters? Check

  Smoldering Alpha Hotness? Double Check

  Sexy Scenes? Fasten up your girdles, ladies and gents, it’s gonna to be a wild ride.

  For more information about T. S. Joyce and her work, visit her website here.