Page 58 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“Good.”

“The groom is asking whether the postponement is medically necessary or simply precautionary.”

My mouth curled before I could stop it.

Of course Grant was worried about scheduling.

Ronan said, “Tell him medical necessity.”

“He may ask to speak with you directly.”

“Then he can wait.”

Lucien paused. “There is one more issue.”

Ronan’s face sharpened. “What?”

“The groom has been suggesting Ms. Morgan may have been drinking heavily before the fall. He says he is concerned about liability and her state of mind.”

My body went cold.

There it was. Grant, already building the story. Poor Cassie. Emotional Cassie. Unstable Cassie. Drunk Cassie, wandering where she should not have gone because she simply could not handle the wedding.

I pressed my lips together so hard they hurt.

Ian’s head turned slowly toward the door. Ronan looked back once.

“Stay here,” he said.

Ian’s eyes had gone gold. “Is he on the west side?”

“Yes,” Ronan said.

“Then he is still breathing because I am here.”

The statement was calm.

That made it worse.

My heartbeat kicked, and the monitor picked it up. Ian heard it. His eyes shut for one second, and when he opened them, they were dark again. Barely.

I forced words through my dry throat. “Do not kill Grant.”

Everyone looked at me.

I hated that those were the words available, but there we were.

Ian’s gaze fixed on mine. “He is making you unsafe.”

“He has been doing that for a while.”

The sentence slipped out before I could catch it.

Ian went very still. Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but his attention sharpened in a way that made me wish I had said less.

Sava looked at my vitals instead of my face.

Coward. Kind coward, maybe, but still.