Lines creased his forehead. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and rasped, “At least seven. Maybe more.”
There werethose who believed that morality was morality and that no situation, no matter how extreme, should ever alter the line between right and wrong.
For the most part, I agreed. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’tcelebrating the sudden and cruel deaths of Gordon Lu, Carolina Foster, Aldrich Redding, and especially Desmond Mace.
“Have to admit, I’d hoped to be naked with you in a much different way by now,” Ronan whispered. “And I’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t cry at the sight of my stunningly beautiful, masculine physique.”
I’d stripped the rest of his clothes off and dropped them into a pile by the chaise. His temperature was high enough to kill a human. Wounds covered his body. Seven deep ones and twenty-two shallow cuts, jabs, and slices. I counted each one, teeth gritted, hands shaking, furious tears pouring down my face.
“Don’t cry, Betty,” Ronan said. “Your makeup will run.”
“I haven’t worn any in almost a week, which should tell you exactly my state of mind.” I swiped my hand across my eyes.
“It’s just something my mom used to say. ‘Don’t make me cry, love, my makeup will run,’” he said, in a light Irish brogue. One side of his mouth quirked up. “Her accent came out when she was emotional.”
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
“She would’ve liked you. She liked strong women.”
“That’s nice to hear,” I replied. “Mine would’ve liked you, too. She had a thing for men with a strong sense of honor—and a wicked sense of humor.”
“Honor, huh?” His eyelids slipped shut. “Your charm’s helping me think more clearly. Wish I’d had this days ago.” His lids fluttered open before being dragged shut again. “If I’d been in my right mind, I would’ve called you, Betty. I would’ve come here as soon as I could.”
I stroked my fingers over his cheek, and he let out a hitching sigh.
“I’m tempted to give Calvin, Jenny, and Felicia a piece of my mind for not realizing how bad your confusion was and contacting me, but I know you well enough by now to assume you forbade them from doing so in some deceptive and cruelly effective way.”
“You think so little of my honorable instincts?” His tone was gentle, teasing.
“Not at all. You thought you were protecting me.” I moved from the wound on his hip to one on his abdomen. It was a shallow slash that should’ve healed even without him shifting. “Like Mom, I value a man—and wolf—with a sense of honor. Especially one that matches my own.”
“I convinced them Floyd would murder you,” he said. “I was very persuasive.”
“Let me guess. You told them Mason Hartman was lurking around, ready to strike me down at the first sign of your presence in my life?”
“Something like that,” he said. “They believed me.”
“No doubt. As you said, you’re very persuasive.”
My fingers glanced over the laceration, and he flinched. The soil on my skin heated in response.
“Sorry.” He cracked an eyelid open. “Stupid cut like that shouldn’t hurt this much. Pisses me off that it does.”
“Pisses me off, too.” I reached for his hand, examining each finger, suppressing my rage at the tremors he couldn’t hide. “I’m going to help you, but first I need to do something. You’ll be okay here for now. Cecil and Fennel Jr. are lurking in the back of the room. They’ll watch over you.” I raised my voice. “Right?”
I got a nervous chitter and a soft meow in reply.
“Fennel Jr.?” Ronan asked.
“More like Fennelina Jr., I guess. I’ll explain later.”
The click of tiny feet on the tile floor grew louder, and Cecil appeared at my side with the small black furball.
Ronan peered down at the two. “Aww, she’s cute. Three paws?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t seem to slow her down much, though.”
“What’s her name?” He shifted on the chaise, wincing at the movement.
