Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby (Blood Moon Brotherhood 1)

Jessa looked at Finn.

“I know she helped you, but I don’t trust her.” His blue eyes searched hers. “Not yet.”

Jessa nodded. She understood. Ellen was unknown. She’d helped Jessa but that didn’t mean she’d do the same for the rest of them.

“Got it,” Gentry said, patting the truck bed as he went.

Jessa looked back to see Dante wrapped up in a blanket, exhausted. Ellen was still in wolf form, her breathing irregular. “Will she be okay?” Jessa asked.

Finn slid on some sweat pants and shrugged into a t-shirt. “She was smart to shift. She’ll heal faster that way. Unless there was too much damage.” He shoved the bag out the back window to Dante. “Here,” he said.

Finn carried Ellen, covered with a large blanket, through the back doors of the hotel. Jessa followed, unsteady on her feet. The deserted halls and lack of staff told her the hotel was being paid for their anonymity. But after the constant upheaval of the last few days, it seemed too quiet. Finn lay Ellen on a bed in the suite she’d share with Dante and Gentry. The men’s unspoken conversation, awkward, tight hugs and silent thank-you’s, was subdued. They’d lost a brother tonight. While her family was safe and sound, unaware of the brutality they’d shared.

“Jessa?” Finn’s hand was warm around hers. “Let’s get some sleep.”

She twined her fingers with his, letting him lead her from the room, down the hall, and into their room. The curtains were pulled tight, keeping out the bright white of the winter day—and the world.

“Shower,” Finn said, locking the door.

She stared at the door. The latch. The deadbolt. They seemed so useless, almost comical. Her giggle was involuntary.

He paused, glancing at the door, then her. “I’m sorry, Jessa,” his voice wavered.

She shook her head. “You can’t be sorry. That implies some sort of regret. And you can’t regret this. Us.” It was hard to get the words out, but she had to. “You chose me.”

“I do,” he interrupted, tilting her head back. “Always. Pain is what I regret. Fear.”

She stared up at him. “Cyrus tried to convince me that, since I’m not a wolf, this,” she paused, placing a hand on his chest, “wasn’t real. That if you were serious you’d turn me. But all I could think about was you. I didn’t want you hurt. Or your brothers. Your pain is mine. All the fear and pain.” She shook her head. “You make up for it, Finn. As long as I have you, I’m good.”

He crushed her in his arms, then immediately released her. “I don’t know what hurts.”

“I’m too happy to hurt, Finn,” she admitted. “Shower?” she managed, hoping she could wash away some of the night.

He nodded, leading her into the bathroom.

…

It took everything Finn had to keep his temper in check. Her hands. Her forehead. Bruises along her side and hip, scratches. She was a rainbow of angry, sore colors that made his jaw clench with fury. But her cuts and bruises would heal.

Worse, Cyrus had tried to plant doubt about his feelings for her. She’d been alone, afraid, hurting—the perfect time to get into her head. To make her second-guess something she trusted. He hoped she trusted it, them. Hoped she knew he’d meant forever, no matter what.

He couldn’t stop touching her.

After thinking she was dead––fear was too fresh, too all-consuming.

He needed reassurance, his wolf needed it. She was here. Close. Even now, his hand rested lightly on the base of her spine as they showered. He watched her, mesmerized by the slide and caress of water against her body. She was beautiful. She stood beneath the water, eyes shut, washing her face. So, damn beautiful.

His.

The wolf wanted to drag her into bed and curl around her. It would take time to ease the panic her abduction had caused. Time his wolf wanted to spend wrapped up in oeach other. Finn agreed.

He lathered himself up over and over, washing away the grit and blood, the fight and anger, of the early morning. He didn’t want to think about Cyrus or the Others.

“Done?” he asked, her slight nod enough to make him turn off the water.

He stepped out of the shower, wrapping her in a thick white towel and patting her dry. Her blonde hair fell in heavy locks over her shoulders. Her left shoulder was badly bruised, so he bent, t

railing his nose over the contusion and pressing a soft kiss on her skin.