Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(32)

She opened her eyes, blinking. “How did you . . . ?” Her gaze locked onto his cheek, onto the throbbing, aching wound he knew to be there, now. Her hand flew to her own cheek, then rubbed, as if seeking . . . anything.

“What have you done?”

Wulfe shrugged. “What’s one more?”

But he saw no gratitude in her eyes, only a keen dismay. “No, no, no.” Her brows knitting, she grabbed his face between her hands without fear, staring at him, at the cut that would mark him as all the others had. To his amazement, her fingers slid gently over his scarred cheeks. “You took it.”

Her voice was breathless, stunned. She stared up at him, pain in her eyes. “Why?”

He frowned, confused by her reaction. The last thing he’d meant to do was upset her. But the truth was, he didn’t have an answer. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Maybe he just didn’t like seeing her suffer when he could help. Or maybe he hadn’t liked the sight of that ugly scar on her pretty face.

What difference did it make? Women were so damn hard to please.

He turned away, breaking her soft hold on him and ending the discussion. “Lie down.” The words came out harsher than he’d meant them to.

But when he turned back to her, she was still standing where he’d left her, still staring at him. Although her brows remained drawn, her eyes no longer flashed with pain but something infinitely softer.

“Will you heal?”

“Of course.”

“But it’ll scar you.”

“Like I said, what’s one more?”

“Plenty.” The softness in her eyes deepened, a fine film of moisture making them shine like diamonds. “That may have been the most unselfish thing anyone’s ever done for me. And I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m called Wulfe.”

Understanding lit her gaze, the memory of watching him shift, he was certain. “I suppose that makes sense. Thank you, Wulfe.”

He nodded, his jaw tight. Then he slid his hand to her neck and pressed beneath her ear, feeling a need to close those eyes that saw too much. As she fell unconscious, he caught her, then laid her down carefully on one of the pallets someone had brought down for the prisoners.

Straightening, he stared down at her, clenching his jaw at her now-unblemished beauty.

With a burst of self-disgust, he’d turned away, because nothing good had ever come from his healing gift.

Now, a month later, he was more worried than ever that in taking her pain, he’d inadvertently hurt her more.

He sank his chin on his paws and gave a low, miserable whine.

Chapter Nine

Natalie woke to the sound of Wulfe’s calling her name. Blinking against the brilliant sunlight pouring into the room, she turned her head to find him filling the doorway, watching her with those liquid eyes.

A small flutter of pleasure filled her chest, making her smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

A smile tugged at his mouth, and that flutter of pleasure intensified. She was coming to love those smiles of his. And, oh, he was a sight to wake up to. He wore a T-shirt today, tucked into his jeans, the first time she’d seen him fully dressed, but the soft fabric did nothing to hide the fine, fine shape of his broad chest, narrow hips, and thick, muscular arms. His golden armband curled around his biceps just below one sleeve.

If only he’d join her in the bed. If only he wanted to.

In one hand, he held a small silver laptop. She sat up, letting the sheet fall to her waist. “Is that mine?”

He nodded. “Hawke modified it, disabling the GPS along with your ability to get online.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry. Lyon’s rules.” His gaze dropped briefly to her chest, to her sleeveless cotton nightgown, then rose again all too quickly. If the sight in any way intrigued him, she couldn’t tell. “Lyon says you can make the calls to your mom and your assistant, but not alone, and not here. We don’t want the signal tracked.”

“Fair enough. I assume you have my phone?” It was no longer in her purse.

“We have it.”

She didn’t blame them for being so cautious. No good could come of humans’ getting involved in the Ferals’ war. She was certain of that.

Wulfe crossed his arms over that powerful chest. “We’ll be doing a power raising soon. I thought you might enjoy watching it. We’ll be shifting.”

“All of you?” At the thought of watching them change into all those marvelous animals her eyes went wide, and she found herself grinning. “I’d love to watch.” Flinging back the sheet, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. “How much time do I have?”

Wulfe’s gaze made a slow, gratifying trail down her body to her legs, bared beneath the hem of her short nightie. Pleasure shimmered through her that he was at least looking.

“Are you going to wait here while I dress?” she asked, striding to the bathroom.

“No.” The word snapped out, his expression turning almost pained. “I’ll be back for you in thirty.” He disappeared out the door, half slamming it behind him.

Natalie glanced at the closed door, bemused. Perhaps the man wasn’t as uninterested as he appeared. She could only hope.

Wulfe leaned back against the wall outside Natalie’s bedchamber, searching for his breath. The sight of her in that nightgown, the soft cotton skimming her curves, hiding, teasing, enticing. Goddess. His mind was on fire even if his body was too damaged to respond. With her cheeks pink from sleep, her golden hair a tousled halo about her head, she’d looked like an angel—a sexy-as-hell angel. At one time, he’d have been burning to pull her beneath him. His c**k would have been thick and throbbing, his pulse racing. Now it was only his mind that imagined, and longed, and wanted. And, goddess, how he wanted. He shoved himself away from the wall and started down the hallway, that vision of long, long legs and slender curves caressed by soft cotton burned into his mind.