Page 19 of Howl About That

Her shoulder was beginning to throb in earnest now, and the adrenaline was wearing off enough for her to feel the full extent of the damage. Something about accepting his help didn't feel like weakness. It felt like partnership.

"Fine," she said finally, pressing her palm against the bleeding gashes.

She started walking toward her front entrance, acutely aware of Keiro following close behind her, his presence both protective and reassuring as they left the carnage of their first battle together scattered across her lawn.

The grand foyer felt cavernous after the violence, marble floors gleaming under the chandelier despite the scattered glass from her ruined window. Poppy's bare feet moved carefully around the shards as she retrieved her torn dress, the light blue fabric now bearing testament to their battle. The silk felt strange against her skin as she put it back on, too delicate after the raw power of her lioness form. Behind her, she could hear Keiro gathering his own clothes and putting them back on—the soft rustle of fabric and the quiet efficiency of a man accustomed to post-battle routines.

When she turned, Keiro was buttoning his white shirt, the fabric hanging open to reveal the scratches across his chest. His slacks were torn at the knees, and his hair had lost all pretense of corporate perfection, the dark strands falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, more approachable, and infinitely more dangerous to her carefully constructed walls.

"I keep my medical supplies in the kitchen," she said, her voice breathier than intended.

She turned and headed deeper into her estate as she reapplied pressure to her bleeding shoulder, and he followed close behind. She tried to focus on the task ahead of tending to their wounds, and not on how the mate bond was pulsing between them with their shared protective instincts.

They soon entered the kitchen with its warm wood cabinets, granite countertops, and copper pots that had belonged to her grandmother. It smelled of the catered dinner they'd enjoyed, garlic and herbs and lingering warmth before everything went to hell. Poppy moved toward the cabinet where she kept her firstaid kit, her shoulder protesting the movement and sending fire down her arm.

"Sit down." Keiro's voice held that Alpha authority she was beginning to recognize—not harsh, but absolutely unyielding. "Let me handle this."

Every instinct she possessed screamed against the suggestion. She'd been handling her own injuries since she was twenty-one, patching herself up after sparring sessions and territory disputes, never showing weakness because weakness meant losing respect and the authority she'd fought so hard to maintain.

"I can manage?—"

"I know you can." He stepped closer, and his scent wrapped around her like a physical caress—cedar and rain and something uniquely him that made her lioness roar with satisfaction. "But you don't have to. At least not tonight."

The words hit her harder than they should have. Her lioness was practically vibrating with the need to accept his care, to lean into the protection and partnership he offered. The animal part of her recognized what her human mind was still fighting—this man was theirs. Their mate. Their equal. Their safe harbor after eleven years of weathering every storm alone.

Poppy sank onto one of the kitchen stools, her body making the decision her mind couldn't quite commit to. "Fine. But make it quick."

Keiro's smile was genuine, transforming his entire face from corporate intimidation to something warmer and more personal. He moved with surprising gentleness as he gathered the medical supplies, his large hands handling the delicate items with the same precision she'd seen him use in combat.

When he approached her, she had to fight the urge to lean away. Not from fear, but from the overwhelming intensity of having him so close. His fingers found the torn sleeve of herdress, and she sucked in a breath as he carefully pushed the fabric down to expose her wounded shoulder.

The wounds were deeper than she'd initially thought—three parallel gashes from the rogue's claws, still seeping blood despite her attempts to apply pressure. They would heal quickly thanks to her shifter nature, but they needed proper cleaning to prevent infection.

"This might sting," he warned, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

The antiseptic burned like liquid fire, and she bit down on a curse as he applied steady pressure to stop the bleeding. His touch was clinical but somehow intimate, those large hands moving over her skin with reverence that made her heart race.

"You know," she said, needing to break the silence before she did something embarrassing like melt into his touch, "you didn't have to help me fight those rogues. I'm perfectly capable of handling situations like this myself. I've been doing it for eleven years."

His hands stilled for a moment, and when she looked up, his dark eyes had shifted to that molten gold.

"I know you're capable," he said, resuming his careful ministrations. "I know you're fierce and powerful and probably the most dangerous woman I've ever met. But I needed to help. I couldn't stand by and watch someone threaten you."

The honesty in his voice made her chest tight with emotions she didn't want to examine. But she understood exactly what he meant—if their positions had been reversed, if someone had been threatening him, her lioness would have torn them apart without hesitation. The mate bond didn't ask for permission or logical reasoning. It simply demanded protection and partnership.

And that's exactly what terrifies me.

She'd built her entire identity around self-sufficiency, around being the Alpha who could handle anything without help. Accepting his protection and his care, felt like admitting weakness. Like confirming every doubt Sander had ever voiced about her ability to lead.

But as Keiro's hands moved over her skin, cleaning and bandaging her wounds with infinite patience, she couldn't deny how right it felt. How natural the whole night had felt. And how they'd fought together like they'd been partners for years, moving in perfect synchronization, trusting each other implicitly despite having known each other for less than forty-eight hours.

Her lioness knew the truth, even if Poppy wasn't ready to admit it. They belonged together. They worked well together. And maybe, just maybe, that didn't have to mean losing herself.

"There," Keiro said, securing the last piece of tape. "That should hold until you heal."

She looked down at his handiwork—professional and thorough and perfect. When she looked back up, she caught him studying her face with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"Let me take care of yours," she said, standing before she could lose her nerve.