Page 56 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

I looked at it.

Then I added: The one word is paprika.

Ronan held out his hand. I didn’t give him the phone. He waited and I made him wait another second because I could, then I handed it over.

He read the message without expression. “Paprika?”

“My parents are divorced because of spice organization. It’s a whole thing.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if deciding whether fever had damaged my brain in a way Sava had missed.

Then he said, “Send it.”

I did.

The delivered mark appeared. For the first time since waking, something inside me loosened. Not enough to feel safe but enough to breathe.

My father replied less than thirty seconds later.

Dad: I love you. I am here. I am not leaving.

The room tilted and I held the phone tightly.

Ian made a sound so low I doubted anyone else heard it.

Ronan did.

“Enough,” he said.

I looked up. “No.”

“You have proof of contact. He has proof of life. That is enough for now.”

“For you.”

“Yes.”

He took the phone before I could stop him. My grip was too weak and that humiliation burned almost as much as the bite.

“You son of a bitch,” I whispered.

Ian moved.

Ronan looked at him. “Do not.”

Ian stopped, but his defiance was clear on his face.

My pulse began to race and the monitor betrayed me at once.

Sava stepped between them. “Both of you are going to make my patient stroke out because neither of you can stand not being the largest animal in the room.”

Ronan looked at her and Sava looked back without a flicker of fear.

After a moment, Ronan pocketed my phone. “The ceremony has been delayed.”

I went still. “What?”

“The wedding ceremony,” he said. “The resort has informed your party that, as a courtesy after a guest injury on our property, tomorrow’s wedding schedule will be postponed until your condition is clear.”