If she got any lower, though, she’d brush up against the noticeable bulge straining against his jeans. And he wasn’t about to let that happen, either.
He jumped back, hunching his shoulders, bracing his body against the agony shooting up his leg when he landed hard on his bad ankle.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said gruffly. “I’ll be fine. I’m a shifter.”
No shit, he realized, since he just spat the words out around a mouthful of sharp fangs. He could sense his eager wolf trying to take over. Biting back a snarl, clenching his jaw as he forced his beast to yield, Colt leaned down and, using one hand, tipped the dresser so that it was upright.
No point in trying to keep his status under wraps. Not that he would; Colt was proud of what he was. And, considering what she was to him, it was better to found out how she felt about Paras sooner than later.
He also didn’t need her worrying about him. Super fast regenerative properties meant that his clumsiness would be a distant memory in no time.
His first erection, on the other hand?
No way he was forgetting about that anytime soon.
“I kinda figured. I mean, just how you grabbed the dresser and left the dolly behind? You were either a shifter or Superman. Plus your name gave you away. Wolfe, right? That’s okay with me. I’m a—” Her olive-colored face noticeably paled as she stepped back. She sucked in a breath, letting it out on a shudder.
Her meager scent spiked, a harsh note that meant only one thing: she was hurting, too.
“Hey. What’s the matter? Shit.” Colt felt his eyes ice over. “I didn’t hit you with it, did I?”
“I… ow. I didn’t think so.” She stumbled toward the counter, leaning against the side, panting shallowly as if the pain was too much for her. “Maybe I walked into it or something.”
Colt froze.
Or something.
Mates could sometimes feel echoes of each other’s pain. It usually depended on how bad the injury was and the strength of the bond. If he could ignore the huge clue down below that this woman was meant to be his, her soft cry and the way she reached for her left ankle—the same one that was aching on Colt—was another flashing, neon warning sign. Especially since, when she lifted the hem of her pants, he had to bite his tongue to stifle his moan at just the barest flash of her unblemished skin.
There wasn’t a single mark on her.
Of course there wasn’t. Colt was the idiot who shattered his ankle. She was dealing with echoes fluttering through a fledgling bond she would know nothing about.
“Huh. It looks alright to me. Nothing some ice and maybe a poultice won’t fix.” She straightened, careful not to put her weight on it as if it still bothered her. Letting her pants fall again, she gestured to his ankle. “What about you? You want me to try to heal it?”
Colt didn’t know how she planned on doing that, but if it meant she’d have to put her soft hands on him again, he was afraid he’d explode in his jeans. He was already walking a thin line, so close to the edge. One wrong step and he really would fling himself at her feet for just the smallest release.
No.
No.
“No!”
Colt didn’t want a mate. He didn’t want the choice taken away from him, didn’t want his cock making decisions for him just because it went and got hard for the first time in his life.
Before Maddox found his Evangeline, he’d spent years searching for her. Colt watched what his brother went through, his packmates, and decided it wasn’t worth it. Not only would he keep from actively looking, but he’d always figured that, if he got snagged, he’d just pretend he hadn’t.
Of course, now that it was happening to him, he was beginning to think that might be easier said than done.
Her dark eyes widened, small human teeth nibbling on her bottom lip as his shout stunned her into silence.
Alpha, he was a fucking asshole.
Colt cleared his throat. “What I meant was, no thanks. Like I said, I’m a shifter. I’ll be fine before you know it. You don’t need to take care of me.”
“Oh. Well. If you’re sure…”
“I am.”