“I cut through the woods. And found a briar patch.” He shook his head. “You can't be left unsupervised at all can you?” She bristled. “I'm fine. I can take care of myself.” But she didn't try to pull free of Mick's gentle healer's grasp.
Jonas crossed his arms over his chest, and his face seemed set in stone.
Privately, she called it his stern face. He wouldn't use it on her nearly so much if he knew how much this hard, unforgiving side of him turned her on.
“Is that right? You get yourself hurt walking home. Spy on people in the woods.” Oh gods, he had to bring that up? Her face was so hot she knew it'd be scarlet. “And you get yourself engaged to some wizard when you have two mates already.”
“I am not engaged to anyone. My father came up with that plan all on his own.”
Jonas, arrogant as ever, cocked one eyebrow. “Is that right?” She nodded. She couldn't find the voice to answer when he looked at her with that avaricious heat in his eyes.
“Can't really blame her for that anyway,” Mick said calmly. She jumped when the peroxide contacted the deepest cut and the scrape up the outside of her calf.
“She didn't know she belonged to us then.”
Was it interest or terror that filled her at the possessiveness in their voices?
Terror, definitely. She was in no way prepared to handle one of them, much less two. Tempted maybe, but not prepared. It was just good fantasy material. Fine.
Great fantasy material. Scary and intoxicating at the same time, but impossible.
Mick tossed the used cotton balls to the trash can in the corner and then picked up the antibiotic cream. She trembled under his soft touch as he smeared it on each scrape, paying particular attention to the long, ugly one.
When he was finished, he held both her calves in a light grip. “Why are you so afraid, sugar?”
The air seemed to chill. The question was gently asked, but the demand for information was in his eyes.
“Who says I am?”
Jonas's voice was harsh. “We can scent it. It's sharp and tangy, and I like it a little too much. Answer the damned question, Harper.” Oh, that pissed her off. He acted like witch was synonymous with leper, in her case at least, and now he wanted… What? He'd used the word mate with her father, had insisted here in her kitchen she belonged to him. That shoved her anger into fury. She'd fled the only home she'd ever known because she refused to be owned by any man. Not her father or some man he chose for her, and sure as hell not a werewolf who held her in nothing but contempt.
“Get over yourself, Jonas,” she snapped. “I don't owe you any explanations.” For a moment surprise crossed his face, and he arched that damned eyebrow again. “Got a backbone after all.”
She finally succeeded in jerking free of Mick's grip and hopped off the table, clinging to the towel so she didn't give anyone a show. She nodded at Mick, trying to completely ignore Jonas in the process.
“Thank you for helping with the scratches. Y'all can show yourselves out.” She didn't quite run from the room, but she didn't give either of them a chance to stop her either. In her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it. It was a long time before her heart slowed to normal, before she quit trembling. She dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping damp palms against her jean-clad legs while straining to hear sounds in the house.
Had they left? She hadn't heard any doors shut, but she didn't hear any movement or voices either. Her stomach rumbled, and she glared at the door. Was she really reduced to hiding in her room in her own damned house? No way. She jerked the door open and stomped down the hall.
Chapter Five
“Good job, man.”
Jonas stiffened but didn't respond to Mick. He walked to the fridge and opened both doors. There wasn't much. TV dinners, salad makings. Certainly not anything that appealed to two werewolves.
“The woman has no food,” he grumbled.
She had dangerous curves, curves that made his mouth water and all the blood in his body rush to his cock. There was no way she'd keep them if she continued to eat this crap. Scowling, he shut the door. Actually, she'd dropped a few pounds since her arrival. Why hadn't he noticed before? He turned to face Mick.
“I've got steaks at home. I'll go get them. Be right back.” But Mick didn't move out of the doorway to let him pass. Jonas grunted.
“What?”
Mick cocked an eyebrow. “I'm not the one with the problem. She's not a soldier.
Quit treating her like one.” He hesitated. “She's not Liza.” All the air rushed out of Jonas's lungs. He had to take several deep breaths before he could speak. “Believe me, I know that. And I'm not comparing her to Liza.
She doesn't have anything to do with this.”
He'd thought he loved Liza once, but once he accepted she'd never be his, that feeling had faded. Eventually he'd realized it wasn't Liza he wanted in particular, but a woman like her. Strong and fierce and independent. Yeah, he felt protective and possessive of Harper. Hell, he felt that way about most of the pack. It was just part of his nature. But he never counted on having a mate who couldn't match him in strength of will, if not physically.
Harper, lovely and appealing as she was, didn't have the fortitude to stand up to him. She didn't have the will to rein him in when he went way overprotective, and he knew he would. She would never be an equal partner the way Mick was.
He'd been in a nonstop struggle with his wolf side since she'd shown up. It wanted to claim her and protect her. It wanted to possess her, and not doing so just pissed it off. Jonas was struggling for control, and the wildness in him was winning.
Harper couldn't handle it, as clearly evidenced by her fleeing the room.
But even knowing that, knowing she couldn't take the wolf and she wasn't what he'd expected, he no longer had the willpower to walk away. She was his.
Eventually, she'd come to grips with what he was. Maybe. Hopefully.
Perhaps with the right kind of encouragement she'd grow into the kind of woman he needed at his side. Perhaps with time the damage done in the past to her self-esteem, her spirit would fade. He sincerely hoped so. He didn't want a doormat for a mate.
“Jonas?”
He shook his head. He knew Mick wanted to know what was on his mind, what kept holding him back, but he wasn't ready to discuss his fears. Sometimes he wanted Harper so badly he shook with the force of it, and admitting he was afraid she might never accept him, accept his wild side and be able to tame it was more than he was capable of yet. Just knowing how deeply his passion ran would probably scare her off.
“I'll be back in a few minutes,” he told Mick and then stepped out the back door.
They hadn't left. She stood frozen in the hall and listened in. So that was it.
Jonas might have wanted her, he couldn't hide the desire she sometimes saw lurking in his eyes, but he was in love with someone else. When he left by the kitchen door, she moved into the light. Mick turned around with a sigh.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” The bottle of rum and her untouched glass were right where she'd left them. She walked over, turned to lean against the counter, and lifted it to her lips. “How long has he been in love with Liza?” For the first time she felt a bit of sympathy for Jonas. Liza was incredible.
Harper felt familial love for her and a hell of a lot of gratitude for Liza's having taken her in. She was strong and confident and outspoken. In short, everything Harper was not. But unfortunately for Jonas, anyone could see she was totally in love with Caleb and Zach. Harper swallowed the liquid, enjoyed the slight burn as it slid down her throat.