Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Madisyn expected him to walk in front of her to block other bodies from touching her. Instead, he walked at her side as they crossed the dance floor, his hand on the back of her head, his body keeping hers neatly under the shelter of his shoulder as if he were a bodyguard escorting a celebrity through a crowd.
People exchanged respectful nods with him and briefly glanced at her, and she knew they wouldn’t forget seeing her with Bracken. Knew they’d get the message that she was under his protection. She also knew that was exactly why he’d done it.
Outside the club, he guided her straight to his SUV and yanked open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Hopping inside, Madisyn cursed under her breath as yet another cramp gripped her lower stomach. She was not at all looking forward to being in a confined space with Bracken—it would aggravate the touch-hunger, which was the last thing she needed.
Rattling off her address, Madisyn lowered her window, seeking cool air. She kept her gaze on the scenery as he drove, striving to pretend she was alone. But it was hard to ignore more than six feet of untamed animal energy.
God, she couldn’t wait to be home. A cold shower would help cool her down. She’d lived in an apartment when she’d first moved out of the shelter, but it hadn’t worked out so well. Maybe she should have felt comfortable living in a building that housed so many other people, considering the shelter was much the same, but she needed space. Quiet. Her house was small, but it was cozy. The neighborhood wasn’t low on crime, but her street was relatively quiet. That was good enough for her and—
“What’s wrong with your thigh?”
She blinked at him. “Nothing.”
“You keep clawing at it.”
Shit, she hadn’t even noticed. “What, you’ve never had an itch?”
Bracken’s hands clenched on the wheel. “So what went wrong with you and the boyfriend?”
“Like I said, it’s over.”
“He dumped you?”
She scowled at his presumption. “Not everybody hates me, Bracken.”
His brow creased. “I don’t hate you. But if you’re ever pushed into traffic, there’s a good chance that it was me.”
“Oh, that’s very nice.”
He sighed at the glower she slanted his way. “Can’t you take a joke?”
“Do you have one?”
Finding the familiar banter comforting, his wolf began to relax. Bracken would never say it aloud, but he enjoyed their spars. Respected her quick wit and that she could take shit just as well as she could give it. “What happened in the restroom?”
“I already told you.”
“No, Grant told me. You danced around my questions. Do you know the bears’ names or what clan they’re from?” Because he’d take the time to warn their Alpha not to even think of retaliating.
“I know they’re black bears.”
“And you’re still dancing around my questions,” said Bracken, pulling up at a red light. “Why are . . .” His brows snapped together as he noticed her scratching her thigh so hard, her nails were abrading the skin. “Shit, Madisyn, you’re going to make your skin raw.” He shoved her hand away and rubbed at her thigh, soothing the grazes, and . . . he honestly didn’t know what happened. Suddenly, his hand was gone from her thigh, and the tips of her claws were pressed to his throat.
Her eyes turned cat, and they glowed with indignation and a clear threat. His wolf pushed to the surface and looked out at the feline. Instead of challenging the dominant move as Bracken would have expected, his wolf let out a sort of . . . soothing “You’re safe with me” rumble that was meant to calm and reassure the feline.
She hissed—a warning not to test her. And then both animals retreated, and Bracken found himself looking at Madisyn again. “What was that about?” he asked.
She lowered her hand and stared straight ahead. “Nothing,” she said stiffly. “My cat’s just a little wound up after the scrap with the bears.”
Seeing the traffic light had turned green, he shifted gears and drove forward. “Back on that subject, what exactly happened?”
“Jesus, Slater, you’re like a dog with a bone.” So it didn’t surprise Madisyn that he continued to question her as he drove. She told him nothing. Shelter business was shelter business—simple. More annoying than his incessant questions was that the cramps in her stomach were getting worse.
She sighed in relief as he pulled up outside her house. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, snapping off her seat belt.
“There a reason why you have crop circles in your front yard?”
“Freaks out the old bastard next door.”
He frowned. “Why is he a bastard?”
“He doesn’t like shifters and is pretty verbal about it. See ya.” She’d only taken a few steps up her path when heat rushed to her head, blurring her vision, and pain smashed into her stomach. She stumbled, almost going ass over tit. And then Bracken was there, helping her into the house.