"s**t!" I cursed when I saw the bruises on her arms. My eyes moved to her neck, where the marks from my earlier grip were beginning to show. My heart clenched. Gently, I brushed my fingers across her face, but quickly turned away and left her room.
"L.A., go treat Anya's bruises," I ordered, feeling the weight of guilt settle in. What did I just do?
Marcus’s POV
"Is she okay?" I asked Michael, sitting on the grass outside the pack house while he stood with his arms crossed.
"Yeah. My mate already took care of her bruises," he replied, smiling like an i***t. I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.
"Why are you grinning like that? You look ridiculous," I commented.
Michael just shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "I’m just thinking about my mate."
I sighed deeply and gazed up at th
