Chapter Eight

Morgan cursed.

He buckled his jeans and went back to retrieve his jacket from the woods. His shirt was in tatters, so he left it behind. By the time he reached the road again, a truck had pulled up. Boomer leaned out the window, grinning like an idiot.

How the wild man ever caught Emmy’s attention, Morgan would never know. He feared it had been like imprinting. Boomer’s mug had been the first thing Emmy saw when she woke, so of course she fixated on him.

“Looks like you got humped and dumped, my cousin.”

Morgan kicked Boomer’s truck, leaving a dent in the side of it.

“I’m not going to finish you off, but I’ll give you a ride home if you want. That homewrecker of yours really is a spitfire.”

“I hate you.”

Boomer laughed. “I love you, too, cousin.”

Callie wasn’t a homewrecker. His mate had been brainwashed by her father. The longer Morgan could get her to stay, the more she could see. While he and his small pack of idiot shifters weren’t the best representation of life outside the Den, Morgan didn’t think there was a better group of people. All of them had lived through life’s messiest moments and gotten through in one piece.

His mate could survive hers, too.

All he had to do was stay patient. He wasn’t sure the throbbing cock in his pants knew what patience meant. Thankfully, it receded by the time Boomer pulled up to the cabin. He jumped out, glad to see that Dom’s truck was parked in the driveway.

Boomer leaned out of his truck and bellowed at Morgan. “You owe me for the dent in my truck!”

Morgan only held up a middle finger while he walked toward the door. Behind him, Boomer’s laughter echoed in the air, only drowned out by the roar of his truck.

When he threw open the door, heads perked up. Dom narrowed his gaze, an unspoken accusation. Morgan had let someone steal Dom’s truck. Aimee, on the other hand, bit back her laughter. Morgan felt her gaze drop to his crotch, almost knowingly.

“Where’s your shirt?” Aimee asked. The smile on her face said she knew exactly where it was. She just wanted to poke fun at him.

“At least I know where my truck is,” Dom grumbled.

“Why are the two of you sitting on opposite sides of the room?” Morgan threw the words into the room and watched the shifters steal looks at one another before quickly looking away.

Aimee gathered her things and slipped away without further explanation.

“What happened between you two?” Morgan grumbled, though he was curious.

“I, ah, don’t actually know.” Dom was fixated on the doorway Aimee left through. His brows folded together, an expression usually saved for when one of the other shifters did something Dom couldn’t understand. Finally, he shook his head and jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Your woman is in the bathroom.”

Morgan nodded and climbed the stairs two at a time, a fight poised on his tongue. When he flung the door open, Callie was submerged beneath a layer of water and pearly bubbles. She shrieked, rushing to cover the breasts he couldn’t see to begin with.

He grinned, wagging his brows.

“Get out,” she demanded.

“Or what? Are you going to leave the tub and force me out of the room?”

Callie mumbled something under her breath before sinking further into the bubbles. Her hair was wet, slicked back from her face. He sobered when he realized her eyes were red from tears. Everything Callie knew was being challenged and here he was, tormenting her while she sought a few minutes alone.

He remembered his mate. If left alone, her thoughts would drive her crazy. So, he dropped to the floor beside the tub. She splashed him, but he didn’t move.

Just being in her presence silenced the beast inside him. He wondered if this was how Boomer or Reid felt around their mates. He played with a spot of water on the floor while he wondered if it had been immediate, or something that happened over time. He and Callie had a lot of time, but very little of it had been spent together.

“I missed you,” Morgan whispered. “Even though I figured you hated me and that you’d be happy if you never saw me again, I spent every day hoping I’d get another glimpse of you.”

But he had. Morgan had not only gotten to see his mate but stolen another taste of her. He would try to memorize the flavor, the feel of her in his hands, because he knew she would run back to the Den soon. Callie would never stay with him.

He told himself it was okay, but it wasn’t. His voice twisted in his throat. He could have screamed. He could have begged. Instead, he sat quietly on the floor of the bathroom, waiting for his mate to say something.

The only sound between them was the slow popping of soap bubbles.

“I’m going to call Dad tomorrow and tell him I can’t convince Emmy to come with me. He will book my ticket home and…” Her voice trailed off.

Morgan turned to see her face. He found her staring at him, confusion and anger warring for dominance. It was the same expression she wore the first time Emmy confronted her beliefs. Morgan could only hope that Emmy had shaken Callie’s common sense loose. Eventually, she sighed and sank deeper into the bubbles. Any further, and she would be submerged completely.

Morgan laughed at her. “You aren’t an aquatic shifter. You can’t breathe down there.”

He reached and carved away the bubbles hiding her face. Her beast flashed in her eyes. It was there and then gone, but Morgan thought he saw a fraction of happiness. The bear in Callie knew the truth. It was only Callie’s human mind that needed convincing. But first, he had to work through whatever it was that had fractured them in the first place.

Morgan smirked. His jacket fell to the floor, followed by his jeans. Callie cried out, but before she could stop him, Morgan already had one foot in the tub.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m taking a bath.” He slowly lowered himself into the water.

The tub was big, but not big enough that he could enter without touching her. He wedged himself beneath Callie, spreading his legs so that hers rested between his. She glowered from the other end of the tub.

He wanted to reach forward and rub her feet, to find any reason to touch her. It had been too long, and his beast demanded physical touch. It wanted to know that Callie was still there. He forced himself to put his hands on the edge of the tub, fingers curling as he fought back the intense need. This had been a bad idea.

Already, his cock was rising with expectations that Morgan should have shoved away. Callie wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if she ever would be.

A sound slipped up his throat. While he growled, he held her gaze.