Drew’s emotions churned violently as he stood at the foot of the bed, watching the pack doctor carefully stitch the small gashes on Liana’s arms. She moaned softly despite the anaesthetic that had her out cold.
For the second time in three days, Drew found himself in the exact position, helplessly watching over her while the scent of her blood filled the room.
His jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides, fingers twitching with a mix of fury and anxiety. He was always in control—of his emotions, his pack, his destiny—but the woman lying unconscious before him made a mockery of all that. She unsettled him in ways no one else could.
And then there was Grandma Claire, the only person alive who could manage to make him feel like a five-year-old in need of a time-out. She sat nearby i
