Ethan Stone’s back was lean and muscular, marred by ten crisscrossing lash marks from the whip. The angry red welts stood out starkly against his tanned skin, some already beginning to bruise. Despite everything. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.
A knock on the door interrupted my examination of his wounds. I hesitated before answering it, suddenly aware of how intimate this situation might appear to an outsider.
A servant stood at the door, holding a wooden box carved with intricate moonstone inlays. “Mrs. Winters, this is Dr. Harold Bennett’s special healing salve for Mr. Stone.”
I recognized the familiar, expensive salve immediately. Dr. Bennett had been the Stone family’s healer for decades, and his special remedies were legendary among werewolves. The distinctive herbal scent wafted from the box – earthy and medicinal.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the box and closing the door.
As I opened it, the full aroma filled the air. It was the same scent I had…
“Why
are you j
just standing there? Come and apply the salve,” Ethan called, interrupting my thoughts.
I approached the sofa where he sat waiting, his broad shoulders tense with pain and impatience.
“Lie down,” I instructed, keeping my voice clinical and detached. “It will be easier to reach all the wounds.”
Ethan complied without argument, stretching out on his stomach across the sofa. The position made him look oddly vulnerable – not at all like the powerful Alpha King who commanded the entire Silvercrest Pack.
I sat beside him on the edge of the sofa and began applying the salve, pressing down hard on his wounds
with deliberate force.
“Ouch!” Ethan winced, turning his head to glance at my serious face.
A slight smirk played on his lips as he lightly pinched my waist. “Be gentle.”
I ignored him, continuing to apply the salve with unnecessary pressure. Each time he flinched, a small, petty part of me felt satisfied. After everything he’d put me through, a little discomfort seemed like minimal
retribution,
Ethan’s brow twitched, but he remained silent, enduring the pain. When I finally finished, I rose to leave, eager to put distance between us.
As I did, Ethan reached out and caught my waist, pulling me into his arms with surprising strength for someone who’d just been whipped.
“Tormenting me on purpose?” he asked, looking down at me with those amber eyes that once m
O Q
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