The Werewolf's Secret Baby: A Paranormal Shifter Romance

Chapter Five

By the time Perrine pulled up in front of his house, he had accomplished little in deciding what had happened. Slowly, so as not to disturb Marceline, he got to his feet and climbed carefully down from the bed of the truck. She barely stirred more than to press her face against his neck, a soft sigh falling from her lips. Thousands of nights swam before his eyes as he recalled her doing the same thing, late into the night. He coughed lightly in an attempt to break up the emotion that threatened to clog his throat.

"Perrine," he said softly, looking toward the witch who still sat behind the wheel of her truck. "Thank you. I owe you two gators for this. At least."

"You don't owe me nothing, cher. Not this time. You just fix up that Marceline of yours," she said firmly. "And take care of that Ramson."

"What happ—"

She had already pulled back out onto the road and drove away, leaving Desmond to ponder her words as he walked up to his front door. He'd been in such a rush, it still stood wide open to the world, but that just made it easier for him to move inside. Briefly, he considered laying her out on the couch, not knowing how much she'd appreciate waking up in his bed, but he changed his mind after a moment, moving to his own room instead. It'd be easier to care for her and dress her wound on the bed where they'd both have room, instead of trying to work with the cramped space of the couch.

It took him a long time to lay Marceline out on the bed. He hadn't held her in his arms like this in so long that the thought of letting her go, even to take care of her wound, left his heart aching. Sighing, he laid her out on what had been her side of the bed, making sure her head rested against her old pillow. Compulsion drove him to lean over her and press a soft, loving kiss to her lips. Even though she was unresponsive, her lips were warm and soft beneath his own.

"Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart. Then you can get back to living your life," he whispered to her, the gentle words falling on deaf ears. He drew the blankets up around her, hiding the ugly bite wound from view, before turning towards the bathroom.

The shower still hissed, and judging by the lack of steam in the room, it had started to run cold. He turned it off, then dug beneath his sink, searching for the first aid kit. Marceline had insisted that they get one within the first few months they had been together after Arin had gotten into a fight with a bear and they didn't have the supplies to patch him up. At the time, he had thought she was over reacting, but right then, he thanked her fervently in his head. It would take some serious stitches to close the bite wound on Marceline's shoulder.

Sighing, he paused in the doorway, hesitant on returning to her side. Helping her now was only going to make it hurt like hell when she inevitably walked away from him again. Weakness clawed at his heart and he desperately wished he could change for his mate. He would do anything if it meant Marceline could be his again.

"Why must I love you, even now? Even after so long..."

"Because that's how your heart works..."

Desmond jumped at the words, his eyes flying towards where Marceline lay. Her eyes were open and stared up at the ceiling, glazed with pain. "That's how it's always worked. Once you love someone or something, you never truly let them go."

"It would have been so much easier to let you go," he whispered, slowly returning to her side. Hesitantly, he sat down on the bed beside her, a sad light clouding his gaze.

"I wasn't good for you, Desmond. You ruled with your heart when it came to me and it hurt you, as well as your pack," she said in a raspy voice.

Had Desmond not had the hearing of a wolf, he would have missed what she said. Honestly, he almost wished that he had. What Marceline said was true, but that didn't mean he wanted to confront that fact.