TAMED | FREENBECKY

39 END

Freen startled awake, opening her eyes to stare at a painted white ceiling. Becca's familiar warmth at her side provided a strange juxtaposition with the moon hangover that left her feeling slightly disconnected from reality. Her whole body ached. She was naked. Turning her head to the side, she exhaled shakily as she processed what it meant that she was in bed with Becca and not lashed to the steel table in her guest room. Confusion turned to horror when Becca rolled over to revel a battered face and bruised neck. Freen gasped out loud at the long, ugly slice across Becca's cheek held together by small, neat stitches.

Sitting up quickly, Freen threw the covers off Becca's pajama-clad body and scanned her for further injuries. Last night she would have been capable of tremendous violence. If Becca had gotten away with only a few cuts and bruises, they were both lucky. But why Becca had stayed after being attacked was beyond Freen's comprehension.

"You didn't do this." Suddenly wide-awake, Becca sat and grasped Freen's arm, staring into her eyes. "Don't panic. This wasn't you."

That didn't exactly make Freen feel better. But it did stop her hyperventilation, which had threatened to send her into an emotional tailspin that would no doubt end in an uncontrolled shift. That was the last thing she wanted after the night she imagined they'd just had.

"What happened? Did I get loose?"

"In a manner of speaking." Becca patted the mattress beside her, projecting a calm strength that brought Freen's tumultuous mood further under control. "Kirk came here looking for you right as I was getting ready to leave. He...had intended to murder you, to punish me, I guess. He pushed his way inside and we struggled, and at one point I managed to break free and run into the guest room. I started to undo your cuffs but could only release one of your arms before he shot you. So then I tackled him and he started choking me. That's when you broke free. Right in time to save me."

Freen swallowed hard. On the one hand, she was thrilled that her beast-self had acted instinctively to protect Becca, especially when Becca had trusted her enough to intentionally try to set her free. But on the other, she had a sense that Becca had witnessed unchecked brutality last night. It must have been a horrific sight, what she had undoubtedly done to the man who was hurting the woman she loved. Yet Becca still slept beside her, perhaps even when she'd been her beast-self. "Did I kill him?"

"Yes," Becca said plainly. "I don't think you had much choice. He was about to kill me. He'd already shot you. You acted in self-defense, to protect me, and you have no reason to feel ashamed about any of it."

Truthfully, Freen didn't feel half as guilty as she'd have expected. Maybe it'd hit her later. Right now, she was just relieved that her beast-self had been cognizant enough of their connection to protect Becca-not harm her. Freen scanned Becca's body again, less frantically this time. Besides the wicked cut on her cheek, her throat was covered with finger-shaped bruises, the skin below one eye was swollen and purple, and her right hand was bandaged.

"I didn't do any of that?" Freen met Becca's eyes. "You swear?"

"That was all Kirk, trust me." A small smile broke across Becca's battered face, seemingly genuine. "Baby, you've seriously misjudged yourself. Last night, you were a giant, fiercely protective wolf-puppy who followed me everywhere I went."

Freen blushed at the characterization, strangely embarrassed that what she'd always assumed to be a ferocious, murderous creature was really so docile. It seemed too good to be true. "I don't believe you."

"Well..." Becca's good humor faltered and she exhaled, clearly nervous about what she was about to say. "Ask Dasha. She can confirm that the only time you were anything close to threatening was when you thought I was in danger."