Until I passed out, viciously sated and gloriously full and so damn near death I could almost taste it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
maverick
“Is she breathing?”Harper’s voice was desperate.
“She’s breathing,” Sutton said.
“He’s not,” Rhone growled, smacking the side of my head.
I snarled at him. Or at least tried to.
Had to take a breath in to do it, so he got what he wanted.
My heart beat weakly in my chest, and there wasn’t a chance that I could get up at the moment.
“He’s basically on top of her. We should move her,” Harper said.
Four voices said or growled “no”before I could do it myself.
“No one touches her but him,” Rhone said flatly.
“He’s squashing her,” Harper pointed out. She was worried about Bloom. I understood, and I didn’t want to hurt my vampire any more than she was already hurting.
I tried to move, but my limbs didn’t respond.
Fucking bloodloss.
Breathing in the scent of her hair, only a fraction of an inch away from my nose, made my irritation fade.
She was alive.
Her heart was beating.
The poison was gone.
That was what mattered.
“Fucking werewolves,” Harper grumbled.
“Werewolves are the only reason she’s alive at all,” Rhone snapped.
“We’re also the only reason she’s in danger,” Nolan said.
“We could try to move them both with a blanket,” Sutton murmured. “If none of us touched her?—”
“No.” Rhone, Nolan, and Oren all spoke together.
Harper made a strangled noise that was obviously frustration and something else. “Why the hell not? I can’t imagine they’re going to heal faster on the floor.”
“It’s a possessiveness thing,” Oren explained. “Between the wolves’ territorial instincts and the intensity of the near-death experience, touching either of them without Maverick’s express permission would be a direct challenge. When I was poisoned, Nolan nearly killed his own sister for touching my arm, and he’s usually a lot more civil than Maverick.”
“Werewolves make no sense,” Harper said.
“Not by human terms,” Oren agreed. “They’re their own breed.”
Harper’s scent thickened obnoxiously, distracting me slightly from Bloom’s. I tightened my grip on my mate’s waist. Or tried to, at least.
