Claws & Crochet

Part 61

ZOEY

By time Warner cuts off his bike, I'm already half naked.

Living a mile away from the nearest neighbor has its perks. It means I can open the front door wearing nothing but a bra and panties without scandalizing the gossip mongers in this small town.

I need this. Touch. Comfort. Connection.

Maybe combatting the darkness with sex isn't the healthiest method, but at least I'm not drinking myself into oblivion.

The front lawn is shadowed, but I can still make out Warner's form as he dismounts. And I can see the way he stumbles to a stop when he takes me in. Next thing I know, the werewolf is running toward me, a triumphant howl ringing from him. The sound has me shivering in anticipation.

Warner tackles me in the gentlest manner. He scoops me up in his arms and uses his momentum to carry us both into the house. My arms circle his neck, and my legs wrap around his waist, clinging as I laugh at his enthusiasm.

"Nothing is better than seeing you waiting for me like this." He rumbles the words with his face pressed into my hair and kicks the front door shut with the heel of his boot.

Disturbed from his nap, Bruce gives an exasperated huff before trotting back toward the guest bedroom he's claimed as his own.

"Really? You like me without clothes on? I never would've guessed." I can feel myself grinning as I move to meet Warner's eye.

Only, I can't. He keeps his head turned away as he walks around the cabin with me in his arms. And for some reason, he seems bent on shutting off the lights.

"Don't bother with those." I didn't wear my cutest set of underwear only to hook up with Warner in the dark. Plus, I made sure to use ice packs on my eyes to get rid of the puffiness from my earlier sob fest.

"I'm setting the mood," he murmurs against my ear. I shiver again.

Still, there's tension underlying his words. The same bit that has all the muscles in his neck tightening. My first assumption was that it was sexual.

But now, I'm not so sure.

When the only light in the cabin is the almost-full moon peeking through a slit in the curtains, Warner finally turns his head to kiss me.

His mouth is ravenous, his tongue eager. The werewolf stands in the middle of the main room, clutching me to him, devouring my mouth as if I'm the reason he can breathe.

When we finally break apart, he gasps out one question.

"Couch or bed?"

"Couch," I declare. For one, it's closer. But also, it works better with my plan.

Just because my mind begs to get lost in the passion of Warner's kiss doesn't mean I'll give into the urge.

Something is wrong, and I'm going to find out what.

"I assume you want me on bottom," he asks, his tone half humorous, half pleading.

"Glad that you're learning." My voice is all huskiness, and Warner responds to it eagerly.

He walks around to the front of the couch, settling us on the old cushions, him laying back while I straddle his waist.

I'm tempted to lean down and kiss the hell out of him.

But I can't.

Before he realizes my intention, I reach for the lamp on the table beside the armrest and flick on the light.

His body goes taught under me, and when I blink to adjust my eyes, I see why.

Warner's eyebrow has a nasty gash through it and his face is bruised. He winces and avoids my eyes, but that doesn't stop me from wrenching up his shirt to find even more discoloration on his torso.

"Where did all of these bruises come from?" My words come out ragged with worry. He's riddled with injuries. "Did you have an accident at work?"

"It doesn't matter. They'll be healed in a few hours." Warner pries his shirt out of my hands, pulling it down to cover himself.

"It does matter. What happened? When did it happen? You weren't messed up like this when we went out to lunch!"

"Zoey," he groans my name, sitting up to bury his face in my neck and wrap his arms around my waist. The hold presses us tight together, which normally I would enjoy, but now I can't examine his injuries. He starts kissing my skin, causing goosebumps to prickle all over my body.

The sneaky animal is looking to distract me.

I'm not having any of it.

My fingers comb into his hair, as if I'm giving him a normal gentle caress. Then I fist my hands, grabbing hold of the roots and directing his head back until Warner meets my eyes. He pants, lust clear in his gaze.

He likes when I take charge. When I get a little rough.

"Warner." His name comes out of my throat in a sultry murmur, and his eyelids flicker at the sound. "What do I want?"

"You want to suck my dick?"

I almost smile at the hopeful note in his voice.

But I keep the humor off my face, instead giving his hair another tug before leaning down to bite his bottom lip. Hard.

He groans, deep in his throat, and his erection grows hard under my ass.

"What do I want?" My tone is more demanding as I repeat the question.

With his head pulled back, I can see the way he swallows. I can watch the tensing then relaxing of his jaw. After a moment he sighs in defeat.

"You want to know what happened to me."

My grip relaxes, and I use the pads of my fingers to massage his scalp and place a gentle kiss to his lip to sooth where I bit him.

"You don't have to tell me." I watch Warner's eyebrows rise in disbelief before I clarify. "But if you don't, I'm going to ask you to leave."

His embrace tightens again as wide eyes search my face.

Maybe it's unfair, that I'd be fine with a friend like Juliet keeping her secrets from me, while I demand that Warner share his or get out.

But Juliet wasn't covered in bruises.

And the rules of friends change when . . .

When you're whatever Warner and I are.