I stared at him, memories clicking into place. The way the bite on my shoulder had healed so fast. The scratches that should have scarred but didn't. The soreness between my legs that had faded impossibly quickly after that first night.
"You've been healing me this whole time. And you didn't think to mention it?"
"I didn't know if you'd— I wasn't sure how you'd react. It's intimate. It's a wolf thing. I didn't want to freak you out."
I was losing too much blood to argue about the absurdity of werewolf healing spit.
"Fine. Do it. Whatever it takes."
He helped me out of my ruined pajama pants — I was past the point of modesty — and eased my leg under the running water. The pain was blinding. I bit down on a washcloth to keep from screaming as he cleaned the wound, flushing out dirt and
