Kenzie glanced around. Trees shielded them from the house next door, and she didn’t scent any Shifter lurking in the woods around them. She noted the cubs playing down the road, their happy shouting floating to her.
The only incongruous scent was the cloying one of the vet—what had Bowman called her? Dr. Pat. She no longer wore the perfume she had last night, but the woman’s scent was distinctive.
And all over Kenzie’s mate.
“Did Dr. Pat go home?” Kenzie asked sharply.
Bowman came alert as he noted the change in her voice. “I sent her away, yes.”
Of course. Dr. Pat wouldn’t be allowed to just leave, not under the jurisdiction of Bowman the überalpha. No one went until he decided.
He didn’t get to decide everything.
Kenzie flattened herself against him. “You’re still not healed.”
“I know that.” Bowman’s breath was hot on her cheek. “I know that, Kenz.”
A ripple of fire spread through her. Kenzie slid her hands inside Bowman’s loose robe, finding the tight warmth of his body, the vibrant power of him.
She nuzzled his neck as she worked the robe open, taking a pinch of his skin between her teeth. Bowman made an mmm sound in his throat. Kenzie nipped him again, and licked where she’d bitten. She’d get rid of the other woman’s scent the most effective way she knew.
Kenzie slid down his body to her knees, the robe opening on her way down. She paused at his large, bare cock, stiff and straight out, Bowman not oblivious to her attentions.
Kenzie gave him a glance—more than a glance. Bowman hard was always worth a long, long look. Then she made herself focus on his hurt leg, stuck into the binding splint.
The splint was hard plastic, fastened with Velcro, positioned to hold his limb as motionless as possible. The doctor at the local clinic was familiar with how quickly Shifters healed, and knew how to patch them up to not interfere with that healing. Bowman’s leg would be knit by the end of the day.
Kenzie loosened the splint’s straps. Bowman leaned heavily on the crutch, but he said nothing as she peeled back the bindings so she could touch his bare skin.
The main part of the splint, molded to the back of his thigh and calf, stayed in place. Kenzie skimmed her hands down the front of his leg, tracing the muscles of his thigh, around his knee, down his lower leg. Dark hair, silken yet wiry, curled around Kenzie’s fingers.
The strength beneath the warm skin made her breath catch. She moved gently to where his bone had broken and rested her palm there, almost sensing the hurt beneath the muscle. Bowman tensed, his hand tightening on the crutch.
His taut leg was tanned from bright North Carolina summers. The tan petered out around his hip and groin—Bowman wore a bathing suit whenever they went to the coast and the beaches. Shifters were happy being naked, but Bowman was always conscious of not pissing off too many humans.
Thinking about how many women turned their heads when they saw Bowman walk by on the sand, his bare skin kissed by sunshine, the small pair of trunks covering his ass and not much else, made Kenzie growl again.
Don’t touch. Don’t even look.
She kissed his thigh, then ran her tongue up the tight ridge of muscle. Bowman sucked in a breath, one hand coming down to furrow her hair.
Kenzie smoothed her fingers over his hurt leg again. Gentle, caressing, kneading, soothing. She bent and pressed another kiss to him, running her tongue over his skin. He tasted like warmth, salt, maleness.
Bowman’s fingers tightened in her hair. “Damn you, Kenz,” he said softly.
Kenzie caressed him all the way down to his ankle, then she looked up at him and smiled.
Bowman growled. He hooked one hand under her arm and yanked her upward. She landed against his chest, his growl still rumbling.
“Damn you,” he repeated. “Don’t smile at me like that.”
“Like what?” Kenzie gave him an innocent look, but she couldn’t make the smile go away.
“Like you’re the sexiest woman alive, and you know it.” His voice broke over her like the soothing waves of the ocean in summer. “Laughing at me, because you think I don’t understand what I’ve got.”
Kenzie had no idea what he was talking about, and she didn’t care. She only knew the weight of his voice tumbling her as though she were a pebble in the sand.
His arm was hard around her, Kenzie holding on to him to keep herself steady. He was the hurt one, but she used his strength to remain standing.
“House,” he said. “Now.”
Kenzie didn’t want to go inside. Bowman had been badly injured, and moving might hurt him again.
Not that she had a choice. Bowman hauled her around with him and started walking. The crutch dug into the pine needles as Bowman braced himself on it and on Kenzie for the short distance to the kitchen door.
The house was empty and shut out the cold. Bowman leaned more on Kenzie once they were inside, where no other Shifters could see them.
“You need to rest,” she began.