When the doctor stitched Andrew's wound with seven stitches, Isabella sat beside, her hands propping up her chin, gazing at him with a look of admiration.
Her mind replayed the recent scenes over and over.
He smiled and said, "A kiss, and I'll handle those people for you."
After dealing with those people, he stood under the dim streetlight, lowered his head, and kissed her, asking for his reward.
Just the thought of his gentle yet domineering kiss, the cool touch of his lips, and his slippery tongue made her cheeks flush.
"Does it hurt?" She looked at his blurry wound, pouting slightly as she asked.
"I had anesthesia. Do you think it hurts?" He raised an eyebrow in response. In truth, this slight pain meant nothing to him. Moreover, a werewolf's healing ability was swift.
Isabella w
