As Shade finished healing the last of the wounds they could address, those inflicted in more intimate places on her body, I held Teagan against my chest, whispering to her.
Though my words were calm, a soothing stream meant to ease her through the discomfort and invasion of her personal space, I was a storm of rage and vengeance inside.
Clive and Ragen—they would both pay for this. My mind raced with a thousand different ways I could make them suffer for what they had done, for forcing us into a position where we had to convince Teagan that this touch, this violation of her privacy, was for her benefit.
"Sit up a second," I told her gently. Standing, I walked over to the laundry basket and grabbed Shade's shirt, which I had just been wearing the day before. It carried the scent of both
