Prince Xeon felt like hell. It might have been because he’d just survived a massive blast, had a coffee shop fall on his head, and was coerced to dig a tunnel to avoid becoming charcoaled.
It might have been. But it wasn’t. For all his lingering wounds, his current agony was completely due to the woman lying on the bed in Trevor’s lair. Perched on the edge of the bed, Xeon gently stroked his fingers through Mathena’s golden hair, his gaze compulsively running over her too-slender form that he’d stripped down to the tiny bra and panties so he could keep constant surveillance on her numerous injuries.
The gashes from the whip had healed before they had returned to the lair not soon enough to ease Xeon’s anger at the thought of Mathena being flayed by the damned wolf, but the bullet wounds
