Sara tensed and cleared her throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t panic, we’ll send for the rest of your stuff.”

She grabbed him by that glossy mass of dark brown hair and snatched his head back. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you think I’m talking about? You’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a question. Or even a demand. It was simply a statement of fact.

“I… I didn’t agree to that.” He turned his big body over, but never left his place between her thighs.

“There’s nothing to agree to. You’re mine.”

“What? Like a dog? I don’t think so.”

He smiled in the face of her anger as he placed his big arms on either side of her. He dragged his large body against hers until their eyes met. She took in a ragged breath as she became moist. Christ, she was a horny dog, and she fought the urge to grab his cock.

“You don’t get it, do you? You’re not in this alone. You belong to me, but I belong to you. Even before you marked me, I belonged to you… as much as it annoys the shit out of me.”

“Marked you?” He glanced down at his bandaged arm and she realized what she’d done. Not just on his arm but all over his body. The man looked like a used chew toy. Then she realized what he’d just said, “And you annoy the shit out of me too. You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a psychotic bitch.” His head dipped down and he dragged his tongue across her nipple, causing her back to arch, “But I’m pretty sure I could fuck that right out of you.”

“Well,” her hands grasped the head board as her body stretched out underneath him and her legs inched farther apart. She stared at him in an open challenge, “You can try. But I’m not holding out any hope.”

He smirked at her, “Really?” Then he ran his hand across her wounded thigh and her body jerked in response.

Her hands tightened on the head board as she shook her head, “Those fuckin’ cats.”

Chapter Twelve

TOC

She could actually hear her phone vibrating and it was in the other room, buried in her backpack. She had to admit, she was starting to really enjoy this “freak thing.”

“Either you shut it off or I break it in half.”

Zach was lying on his stomach, his arm thrown possessively over her naked waist, his face buried in the pillow. And clearly he was not a morning person.

Sara slipped out of bed and silently padded into the living room. She found her bag by the couch, the dog muzzle right next to it. She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Zach having that thing on his face.

She found the phone buried, as usual, in the very bottom of her backpack. She pulled it out and quickly answered it.

“It’s Miki,” was the reply. And she knew just by the sound of her best friend’s voice that something was wrong. “You better get to the shop. The cops are here and I just saw an ambulance pulling away.”

Sara hung up the phone and moved.

***

The slamming door woke him up for the second time that morning. But it was the banging on the window an hour later that actually made him move.

Zach literally dragged himself up and out of bed. He sleepwalked to the window and pulled the shades open. Conall stood on the other side. Leave it to his best friend to wake him from one of those great sleeps. The kind of sleep you only get after fucking the woman you love throughout her entire house.

Zach opened the window, “What?”

“We’ve got a problem. They went after Marrec this morning.” Conall shoved Zach’s saddle bags from his bike through the window. “Get dressed. And thanks for letting us know you weren’t dead.”

Zach stared at his friend, seriously confused. Then it all returned to him. That bastard touching his female. The fight. And the falling. He remembered Conall calling his name, but not much else… except gunshots.

“I’m really sorry.” Zach pulled his jeans out of the bag. His friend didn’t answer. “But if it makes you feel any better, she put a muzzle on me last night.”

Conall started laughing then. And didn’t stop until they got to the hospital.

Sara was already there when the two men arrived. She glanced at Zach when he and Conall walked in to the room, but quickly turned back to Marrec.

The look on her face said it all. She blamed herself for what happened. Blamed herself for bringing the Pride to Marrec’s territory. Blamed herself for putting him and his Pack at risk.

Marrec, though, seemed to be seriously enjoying the attention of three beautiful women. Miki was fluffing his pillows. Angelina was reading his medical chart. And Sara was holding a water cup to his lips so that he could drink. Zach and Conall exchanged glances. They both knew this was ridiculous. Marrec had clearly been attacked. Zach wouldn’t—couldn’t—deny that. Half his face and throat were covered in bandages that were ready to be changed. His hands were bruised and torn. The man was a mess. But he was also Pack. In two days he’d be fine. At the moment, as bad as he looked, he probably was just feeling a dull ache.

Zach turned and tested the air. Marrec’s Pack was around here somewhere, probably the cafeteria. And his Pack had just arrived. Unfortunately, Casey was with them. “Shit,” he muttered to Conall.

Yates came in first. He stopped in the doorway and observed Marrec. “Comfortable?” He asked with obvious amusement.

“A lot of pain.” Marrec forced out.