Page 36 of Furry Equations
“Hmm?”
“You’re hovering again.”
He kissed her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume mixed with something uniquely Natalie. “Get used to it, sweetheart.”
Her quiet laugh vibrated against his chest, better than any award acceptance speech could have been. Because she was here, she was safe, and she was his.
Even if she did mock his growling.
From the front seat, Jax’s voice floated back through the partition: “You know I can still hear you two being disgustingly cute back there, right?”
“Eyes on the road, Jax,” Marcus growled, but there was no heat in it. Nothing could ruin this moment.
Natalie just laughed, snuggling closer. “Your beta’s just jealous.”
“Damn right, I am,” Jax called back. “Do you know how long I’ve had to put up with his brooding? Years of ‘I’ll never find my mate’ and ‘Stop trying to set me up, Jax.’ Now look at him, all lovesick and protective.”
Marcus raised the privacy partition the rest of the way, cutting off Jax’s laughter. Some moments were meant to be private—like holding the woman you love after nearly losing her.
“He means well,” Natalie murmured against his chest.
“He means to drive me crazy.” But Marcus couldn’t keep the affection out of his voice. Jax had been by his side through everything.
She tilted her head up, studying his face in the passing streetlights. “Your wounds are healing faster.”
He caught her hand as she traced one of the nearly-closed gashes. “Told you I’d be fine.”
“Still.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Thank you for protecting me.”
The simple gesture nearly undid him. His wolf whined, wanting to shift and curl around her, to keep her safe from everything that might harm her. Instead, he tightened his arms around her, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
The city lights painted patterns across her face as she smiled up at him. “My big bad alpha.”
“Yours,” he agreed, catching her lips in another soft kiss. Because that’s what it came down to—he was hers, completely and irrevocably. His wolf knew it, his heart knew it, and soon, the whole world would know it too.
Even if she never stopped teasing him about his growling.
TWENTY-THREE
Natalie paced Marcus’s ridiculously luxurious penthouse bathroom, her reflection multiplied infinitely in the triple mirrors. The first aid kit lay open on the marble counter, its contents spread out like evidence of her internal chaos.
“Marcus?” She rapped on the adjoining bedroom door. “Stop being stubborn and let me look at those wounds.”
A muffled growl answered her. “They’ll heal.”
“Yes, and they’ll heal faster if they’re clean.” She rolled her eyes at the door. “Don’t make me use my doctor voice. I have one, you know. Comes with the PhD.”
The door opened, revealing Marcus in black sweatpants and nothing else. Her breath caught at the sight of his bare chest, despite the angry red gashes marring his skin. Or maybe because of them. Each wound represented his willingness to protect her, to put himself between her and danger.
“Doctor voice?” His eyebrow quirked up, though she noticed he couldn’t quite hide his wince as he moved.
“Absolutely. Very stern, very authoritative.” She patted the counter. “Sit.”
The first aid supplies scattered across Marcus’s marble counter looked clinical and cold compared to the heat radiating from his bare skin. Natalie tried to focus on the antiseptic and gauze rather than the way his muscles flexed under her touch, or how his scent—pine and something wild and distinctly Marcus—made her head spin.
“These need cleaning,” she managed, proud that her voice stayed steady despite the electric current that seemed to spark between them every time she touched him. “Though I’m starting to think your stubborn alpha male routine is just an excuse to sit here shirtless.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her fingers. “If I wanted an excuse to be shirtless around you, Dr. Grant, I’d find a better one than getting stabbed.”